When the Committee Meets Between One Man's Ears

Ask most people why organizations create committees, and the answers are remarkably consistent. Committees divide the workload. They gather different viewpoints. They make recommendations. They share responsibility. All of those answers are true, but I have come to believe they overlook the committee's most important purpose.

The primary purpose of a committee is to transfer institutional knowledge from one generation to the next.

Projects come and go. Officers complete their terms. Employees retire. Volunteers move away. Leaders eventually hand their responsibilities to someone else. Organizations survive those transitions only when the experience gained by one generation becomes the starting point for the next. Without that transfer, every new committee begins where the last one began, solving problems that have already been solved and making mistakes that have already been made.

That is why healthy organizations rarely view committee meetings as simply opportunities to assign tasks. They view them as classrooms.

Experienced members teach newer members far more than how to complete this year's project. They explain why things are done a certain way. They share which ideas succeeded, which failed, and why. They pass along relationships that took years to develop. They teach who to call, when to begin planning, what details are easily overlooked, and where small problems have a habit of becoming large ones. The work certainly gets done, but something even more valuable is happening. Experience is being transferred.

Years ago, while teaching leadership, I jokingly remarked that one purpose of every committee was to teach the next volunteer where the coffee pot was. People laughed because they understood exactly what I meant. The coffee pot was never really the point.

Today it is the coffee pot.

Tomorrow it is the storage room key.

Next year it is the contact list, the annual timeline, the trusted vendor, the unwritten traditions, and the lessons that never found their way into the handbook.

Eventually it becomes the culture of the organization itself.

Institutional knowledge is rarely lost all at once. More often, it quietly concentrates inside the minds of a few experienced people. The organization begins to rely on memory instead of process, on familiarity instead of mentoring, and on individual experience instead of shared understanding. The warning signs are subtle at first. Fewer people know how things actually work. Fewer volunteers are prepared to step into leadership. Questions that once had many answers now have only one.

Eventually someone says, "Don't worry. Jim knows."

Or Mary.

Or Susan.

Or Bill.

That sentence should concern every leader.

Whenever an organization's success depends primarily upon what exists inside one person's memory, it has created a dependency rather than a system. The committee has slowly disappeared, replaced by a single individual carrying knowledge that was never intentionally transferred.

This is one reason organizations often struggle after experienced volunteers leave. The problem is not that dedicated people are difficult to replace. Every generation produces capable leaders. The problem is that too often we ask new leaders to inherit responsibility without inheriting experience.

Knowledge does not transfer automatically.

It must be taught.

The most successful committees understand this intuitively. Every meeting has two objectives. The first is moving the project forward. The second is preparing someone else to lead that project in the future. Those objectives are inseparable. A committee that completes excellent work but fails to prepare its successors has only solved half the problem.

Leadership is often measured by what we accomplish during our own tenure. I believe the better measure is what continues after we leave. A leader who personally carries every answer may appear indispensable, but an indispensable leader has also created an indispensable problem. Strong organizations are not built around indispensable people. They are built around shared knowledge, disciplined mentoring, and the deliberate transfer of experience.

Civilizations have always survived by passing wisdom from one generation to the next. Families do it. Trades do it. Military organizations do it. Universities do it. Every enduring institution recognizes that knowledge must be preserved, refined, and intentionally shared if the organization is to become stronger over time.

Committees serve exactly the same purpose.

Their greatest product is not this year's event, this month's report, or today's decision.

Their greatest product is the next generation of people who know not only where the coffee pot is, but why everything else is where it belongs.

I think this essay does something your recent essays have been moving toward: it takes an insight from your decades in policing, Rotary, Freemasonry, and civic leadership and elevates it into a general principle. A police lieutenant, a nonprofit director, a hospital administrator, or a church elder could all read this and recognize their own organization in it. In my view, that's where your leadership writing is becoming most distinctive.

Organizations Rarely Become Stronger by Forgetting What Previous Generations Learned

Imagine an organization with centuries of history. Its leaders are elected for only a single year, but leadership is not accidental. Those who aspire to serve spend years preparing for the office, learning the traditions, responsibilities, successes, and failures of those who came before them. Over time, experienced leaders recognize that each generation is relearning the same lessons—often at great cost. To preserve that hard-earned wisdom, they distill decades of experience into a practical guide: not a book of rules, but a roadmap intended to help future leaders avoid predictable mistakes and build upon proven successes.

For many years the system works. Leadership transitions become smoother. New officers arrive better prepared. Expectations are clearer, accountability is stronger, and the organization benefits from a continuity that no single one-year leader could provide. Then, slowly, something changes. The guide is dismissed as too complicated. Some leaders read only portions of it; others ignore it entirely. Preparation gives way to improvisation. Accountability becomes optional. Planning becomes reactive instead of deliberate. Within a few years participation begins to decline, programs become shallow, execution suffers, and the organization slowly exchanges meaningful work for activities that are easier, more comfortable, and less demanding. Every generation believes it is simply adapting to changing times, yet few recognize that they are repeating mistakes their predecessors had already solved.

This condition has a name: organizational amnesia.

Organizational amnesia occurs when an institution loses the ability—or the willingness—to remember what it has already learned. It is not the loss of records; the documents may still exist. It is the loss of institutional discipline. The accumulated wisdom of previous generations remains on the shelf while each new generation assumes it can begin again from first principles.

Every successful organization develops institutional memory. Military organizations codify doctrine after every campaign. Aviation investigates accidents so future pilots do not repeat fatal errors. Medicine advances because physicians publish case studies rather than allowing each generation to rediscover diseases and treatments independently. Businesses preserve best practices because experience is expensive, and repeating preventable mistakes is even more expensive.

Healthy organizations understand a simple truth: experience compounds only when it is transferred.

Unfortunately, many organizations mistake familiarity for competence. Leaders inherit titles without inheriting the knowledge that made those titles effective. They believe enthusiasm can substitute for preparation, or that common sense alone is sufficient to solve problems that generations before them have already encountered. The result is predictable. Challenges that were once routine become recurring crises. Every new leader spends precious time rediscovering solutions that already existed.

Ironically, this decline is often mistaken for progress. Calls for simplification frequently become excuses to abandon discipline. Accountability is viewed as unnecessary complexity. Long-term planning is replaced by short-term convenience. The organization begins rewarding what is easy rather than what is effective.

None of this means that every inherited process should remain untouched. Circumstances change. Organizations evolve. Documents should be reviewed, refined, and occasionally rewritten. But revision is fundamentally different from rejection. Wise institutions improve inherited knowledge; they do not discard it simply because it requires effort to apply.

Before abandoning any long-standing system, leaders should ask a simple question: What problem was this originally created to solve? If that problem has disappeared, perhaps the process has indeed become obsolete. But if the problem remains—and especially if it has returned after the process was abandoned—the fault may not lie with the system at all. It may lie with our unwillingness to use it.

Organizations rarely collapse because they lack talented people. More often, they decline because they forget what previous generations worked so hard to learn. Every lesson ignored must eventually be relearned, usually at a far greater cost than it would have taken to remember it.

Institutional memory is not about preserving the past for its own sake. It is about respecting experience enough to let it inform the future. The strongest organizations are not those that constantly reinvent themselves. They are those that continually learn, preserve what works, improve what can be improved, and pass that wisdom faithfully to those who follow.

The Lie We Tell Children

There are two phrases nearly every child hears while growing up. They are spoken by loving parents, encouraging teachers, patient coaches, and well-meaning grandparents. "Just do your best." "Just try hard." Those words are intended to build confidence, reduce fear of failure, and encourage perseverance. For children, they are wise counsel. The problem is not that they are wrong. The problem is that they become incomplete. If we never replace those childhood lessons with the realities of professional life, they can become the very beliefs that limit our success as adults.

I learned that lesson in one unforgettable conversation during Coast Guard Radioman School. Looking back, I have come to believe the greatest lesson the Coast Guard taught me had nothing to do with Morse code, radio theory, electronics, or typing. It was a lesson about standards, accountability, and the difference between effort and performance. That lesson has shaped every leadership position I have held since, from law enforcement to community organizations. It began when a chief challenged two of the most common messages we tell children.

Radioman School was a demanding five-month course designed to prepare Coast Guardsmen to operate and maintain the communications systems that connected ships, aircraft, and shore stations. We learned electronics, antenna theory, radio maintenance, message handling, and military communications procedures. We also had to master two practical skills that measured our readiness: typing at thirty-five words per minute and accurately copying Morse code at eighteen words per minute.

By the fourth month, I was falling behind. I was studying hard, staying late, and putting in the effort, but effort alone was not closing the gap. One afternoon I was called into the chief's office.

He looked at me across his desk and asked two simple questions.

"Are you doing your best?"

"Yes, Chief."

"Are you trying hard?"

"Yes, Chief."

He leaned back and said something I have never forgotten.

"That's your problem."

I remember being stunned. Those were exactly the answers I thought he wanted to hear.

He continued.

"You're not paid to do your best. You're paid to meet our standards. It's our best that's required. It's our standard that saves lives, not yours. You don't decide what the standard is. We do."

Then he addressed my second answer.

"And you don't get paid to try. You get paid to do. You're an adult now."

At the time, his words felt harsh. Today, I recognize them as one of the greatest leadership lessons I have ever received.

As children, we are encouraged to do our best because children are still discovering what they are capable of becoming. Comparing one child's progress to another often discourages learning. Praising sincere effort builds confidence and resilience. Those are important developmental goals, and decades of educational and psychological research support encouraging persistence while skills are being developed. Carol Dweck's work on growth mindset, for example, demonstrates that effort plays an important role in learning because it helps people embrace challenge and continue improving rather than giving up at the first sign of difficulty.

But somewhere between childhood and adulthood, the measuring stick changes.

Professionals do not establish the standards by which they are evaluated. Organizations do. The Coast Guard establishes qualification standards for radiomen. Hospitals establish standards for surgeons and nurses. Airlines establish standards for pilots. Police academies establish standards for recruits. Engineers, firefighters, air traffic controllers, and nuclear technicians all work within objective performance requirements that exist because other people's safety depends upon consistent competence.

The standard is not personal. It is professional.

That realization changes everything.

The second lesson was equally important. Children are praised for trying because trying is the beginning of learning. Adults, however, eventually enter professions where effort alone no longer defines success. No patient asks whether the surgeon tried hard. No airline passenger hopes the pilot gives his best effort. No Coast Guard crew drifting in heavy seas wants to hear that the radioman sincerely tried to transmit the distress message.

Trying matters because it leads to competence.

Competence is what ultimately matters.

This is not an argument against effort. It is an argument for understanding effort's proper place. Effort is the investment. Competence is the return. High-reliability organizations cannot afford to confuse the two because standards exist to reduce uncertainty when the consequences of failure are significant. As surgeon Atul Gawande observed in The Checklist Manifesto, consistent adherence to proven standards often prevents mistakes that individual talent alone cannot overcome.

For leaders, this distinction has practical implications.

The first transition is replacing personal benchmarks with professional standards. Instead of asking, "Did I do my best?" leaders ask, "Did I meet the standard?" Feelings become secondary to measurable performance. The standard remains constant regardless of how difficult the day may have been.

The second transition is learning to receive feedback as information rather than criticism. My chief was not attacking my character. He was identifying the gap between my current performance and the Coast Guard's expectations. Effective professionals separate their identity from their performance. One can always improve the other.

The third transition is understanding that competence is built through disciplined practice rather than motivation alone. Research on expertise by Anders Ericsson demonstrated that exceptional performers do not become exceptional because they simply try harder. They improve through deliberate, structured practice focused on correcting weaknesses until high performance becomes routine rather than occasional.

The fourth transition is measuring success by reliability. Leadership is ultimately about trust, and trust is built when others know they can depend upon consistent performance. James Kouzes and Barry Posner have long argued that credibility is the foundation of leadership. Credibility grows when leaders repeatedly meet expectations, especially when circumstances are difficult.

The chief who spoke those words decades ago probably never imagined that I would still be thinking about that conversation many years later. I honestly don't remember how quickly I eventually mastered Morse code or how long it took me to reach the required typing speed. Those were valuable skills, and the Coast Guard rightly expected me to master them. But they were not the most important lesson I carried away from Radioman School.

The lesson that stayed with me was that professionalism begins the moment we stop measuring ourselves by effort and start measuring ourselves against standards. Children are encouraged to try hard and do their best because they are still discovering what they can become. Professionals accept something far more demanding. They do not define excellence. They pursue it. In every profession where lives, livelihoods, or trust are at stake, people are not protected by good intentions. They are protected by competence. The Coast Guard was never interested in my personal definition of "my best." It expected me to meet its standard. That lesson has guided every leadership role I have held ever since.

References

1. Dweck, Carol S. Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. Updated ed. Random House, 2016.

2. Ericsson, K. Anders, and Robert Pool. Peak: Secrets from the New Science of Expertise. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2016.

3. Gawande, Atul. The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right. Metropolitan Books, 2009.

4. Kouzes, James M., and Barry Z. Posner. The Leadership Challenge. 7th ed. Wiley, 2023.

5. U.S. Coast Guard. Competency Management System Manual, COMDTINST M5300.2 (current edition).

About the Author

Raymond D. Foster is a retired police officer, university educator, leadership consultant, and author. Drawing on decades of experience in the U.S. Coast Guard, law enforcement, higher education, and civic leadership, he writes about leadership, decision-making, organizational culture, and personal growth. He is the author of Leadership: Texas Hold'em Style, Chasing the Surge: 10,000 Rides in the American Night, and The Temple Within, where he combines real-world experience with practical leadership lessons for today's readers.

The Myth of Standing Still: Leadership and the Principle of Reversibility

What takes years to build can be lost in months because organizations, like bodies, are always adapting.

One of the foundational principles of exercise science is the principle of reversibility. The concept is straightforward: the body adapts to the demands placed upon it, but those adaptations are not permanent. Strength, endurance, flexibility, coordination, and cardiovascular fitness are all temporary achievements maintained through continued effort. When training stops, the body begins to surrender the very qualities it worked so hard to acquire.

What makes reversibility particularly important is that the relationship between building and losing is not symmetrical. A person may spend six months developing measurable strength gains through disciplined resistance training, only to experience significant declines after several weeks of inactivity. Research on detraining consistently demonstrates that physiological adaptations begin to diminish once the stimulus that created them is removed. The body does not preserve strength out of sentiment. It responds to present demands rather than past accomplishments.

Leadership follows a remarkably similar pattern. Many leaders assume that once an organization reaches a certain level of success, stability naturally follows. They inherit strong systems, capable people, established traditions, and a culture shaped by years of effort. Because those structures already exist, it becomes easy to believe they will continue functioning on their own. Yet organizations, like bodies, are never standing still. They are either becoming stronger or becoming weaker. They are either reinforcing the habits that created success or gradually abandoning them. The danger is that organizational decline often occurs quietly enough that it can be mistaken for stability.

The Science of Reversibility

Exercise physiologists have long understood that physical fitness is not a permanent possession. Muscle tissue, cardiovascular conditioning, and athletic performance all represent adaptations to repeated stress. When a person consistently challenges the body through resistance training, the body responds by becoming stronger. When that challenge is removed, the body begins conserving resources. Muscle mass decreases, cardiovascular capacity declines, and performance deteriorates.

Importantly, decline often occurs much faster than improvement. A novice athlete may spend months developing the ability to perform a difficult movement correctly. A competitive athlete may spend years refining technique and building strength. Yet measurable losses can begin within weeks of inactivity. The body follows a simple rule: what is not regularly demanded is no longer maintained.

The lesson extends far beyond the gym. The same principle applies to every system that depends upon disciplined maintenance. Relationships require attention. Skills require practice. Institutions require stewardship. Excellence is not a destination one reaches and permanently occupies. It is a condition sustained through continual effort. The moment maintenance ceases, reversibility begins.

Organizations Follow the Same Rule

Organizations possess their own forms of muscle. Competence is organizational muscle. Accountability is organizational muscle. Leadership development is organizational muscle. Trust, culture, institutional memory, and shared expectations are all forms of strength developed over time through repeated action.

These qualities are difficult to build. A culture of accountability may require years of consistent leadership. Developing future leaders often takes longer than developing current ones. Trust accumulates through hundreds of small interactions, fulfilled commitments, and demonstrated competence. None of these emerge quickly.

Yet deterioration can occur surprisingly fast. Expectations that were once non-negotiable become optional. Standards that were once enforced become suggestions. Participation that was once expected becomes voluntary. Small exceptions become accepted practices. The organization adapts to lower demands just as the body adapts to lower physical workloads.

The most dangerous aspect of this process is that it rarely appears dramatic. Organizations do not typically collapse overnight. More often, they gradually become less effective while maintaining the appearance of normal operation. Meetings continue to occur. Reports continue to be given. Activities continue to be scheduled. To a casual observer, little seems different. Yet beneath the surface, the organization may already be experiencing the equivalent of institutional atrophy.

Accountability: The First Muscle to Atrophy

One of the earliest signs of organizational decline appears in the way leaders understand accountability. Healthy leaders view accountability as a leadership tool. Struggling leaders increasingly view accountability as blame.

The distinction is significant. Blame focuses on identifying who caused a problem. Accountability focuses on determining who will address it. Blame seeks explanations. Accountability seeks solutions. Blame is often defensive. Accountability is inherently proactive.

When leaders begin losing their grip on accountability, they frequently become preoccupied with external causes. Problems are attributed to circumstances, difficult personalities, changing conditions, inadequate support, or the failures of others. While these factors may contain elements of truth, they often obscure the central question leadership requires: What is my responsibility in this situation?

The moment a leader accepts responsibility, he gains the ability to influence the outcome. The moment he rejects responsibility, he surrenders much of that influence. This is why accountability functions as a leadership tool rather than a punishment. Leaders who consistently ask what actions they can take tend to strengthen organizations. Leaders who focus primarily on why problems exist often become trapped in cycles of explanation and frustration.

Like physical strength, accountability weakens when it is no longer exercised.

Harmony and the Illusion of Health

A second symptom of organizational decline emerges when leaders begin confusing harmony with the absence of conflict. This misunderstanding is common because both conditions can appear similar from the outside. Meetings proceed without argument. Discussions remain polite. Few objections are raised. Decisions appear to move forward without resistance. To many observers, these conditions seem to indicate a healthy and harmonious organization.

Exercise science provides a useful analogy. Consider an individual climbing a flight of stairs. Upon reaching the top, an observer might conclude that the individual is physically fit because the task was completed successfully. Yet a closer examination could reveal a very different reality. The individual's heart rate may be excessively elevated. Blood pressure may spike dramatically. Recovery may take far longer than expected. Blood chemistry may indicate significant health concerns. The ability to complete a task does not necessarily indicate health. It merely demonstrates that the individual has not yet reached the point of failure.

Organizations often operate in precisely the same way. They continue functioning long after underlying weaknesses have begun to develop. Meetings still occur. Events still happen. Reports are still presented. Yet participation may be declining, future leaders may not be developing, institutional knowledge may be disappearing, and critical responsibilities may be going unfulfilled. Because the organization continues operating, leaders may convince themselves that everything is functioning properly. In reality, they may simply be observing an organization that has not yet reached the point where its weaknesses can no longer be concealed.

True harmony is not the absence of conflict. Harmony exists when the various parts of a system are functioning effectively together toward a common purpose. A healthy team may experience disagreement because members care enough to identify problems before they become crises. A healthy organization may engage in difficult conversations because participants recognize that avoiding problems rarely solves them. Conflict is not always evidence of dysfunction. In many cases, the willingness to address uncomfortable realities is evidence of health.

The danger arises when leaders begin treating every challenge, question, or criticism as a threat to harmony. Once this occurs, legitimate concerns become increasingly difficult to raise. Members learn that silence is safer than honesty. Difficult questions go unasked. Problems remain unaddressed. The organization appears peaceful while slowly becoming weaker. Much like the deconditioned individual climbing the staircase, the outward appearance of functionality masks a growing internal decline.

When Leaders Choose Comfort Over Strength

The principle of reversibility also helps explain a pattern frequently observed in struggling organizations. As standards begin to decline, leaders often become less receptive to the very individuals who are most capable of helping them improve.

Anyone who has spent time in a gym understands the discomfort associated with growth. The coach who points out flaws in technique can be frustrating. The training partner who insists on another repetition can be irritating. The scale, the stopwatch, and the performance log provide objective measurements that may reveal disappointing truths. Yet these sources of discomfort are also the mechanisms through which improvement occurs. Without them, progress becomes difficult to measure and nearly impossible to sustain.

Organizations face a similar challenge. Experienced members, critical thinkers, and individuals willing to ask difficult questions often function as the equivalent of coaches and training partners. They identify weaknesses, point out declining standards, and draw attention to emerging problems. While their observations may be uncomfortable, they provide feedback that allows an organization to adapt before serious deterioration occurs.

Unfortunately, leaders who are presiding over decline often begin interpreting discomfort as hostility. Constructive criticism becomes negativity. Accountability becomes blame. Questions become challenges to authority. Individuals who raise concerns are increasingly viewed as obstacles rather than resources. Over time, leaders may surround themselves with people who are less likely to question decisions and more likely to provide reassurance.

This shift creates a dangerous cycle. The organization becomes more comfortable, but it also becomes less capable of self-correction. Critical feedback diminishes. Warning signs are ignored. The people most willing to identify problems are pushed further from decision-making, while those who offer affirmation gain greater influence. The result resembles the individual who abandons difficult workouts because they are uncomfortable. The immediate experience becomes easier, but the long-term consequences become increasingly severe.

The Speed of Organizational Decline

One of the most important lessons provided by the principle of reversibility is that deterioration often occurs more quickly than expected. Building strength requires consistent effort over long periods of time. Decline requires only the absence of that effort.

Organizations operate according to the same principle. A culture of accountability may take years to establish. A leadership pipeline may require decades to develop. Strong participation, institutional trust, and operational excellence often represent the accumulated efforts of many individuals over many years. Because these achievements take so long to create, leaders sometimes assume they possess a similar degree of permanence.

History suggests otherwise.

Organizations rarely collapse because of a single disastrous decision. More often, they deteriorate through the accumulation of small neglected responsibilities. A standard goes unenforced. A responsibility goes unfulfilled. A problem goes unaddressed. A difficult conversation is postponed. An expectation becomes optional. None of these developments appear significant in isolation. Together, however, they create conditions that accelerate decline.

The process resembles physical detraining. The athlete rarely notices the effects of a missed workout. Nor does the athlete notice the consequences of two missed workouts. Yet weeks later, performance has declined. Endurance has diminished. Strength has decreased. The cumulative effect becomes undeniable. Organizational deterioration follows a similar trajectory. Leaders frequently notice the symptoms only after substantial decline has already occurred.

Conclusion: Every Organization Is Training or Detraining

The principle of reversibility teaches a lesson that extends far beyond exercise science. Strength is never a permanent condition. It is the product of consistent effort applied over time. Once that effort ceases, decline begins.

Organizations are no different. Leadership, accountability, culture, trust, competence, and participation must be continually reinforced. They cannot be inherited and then ignored. They cannot be preserved through optimism alone. They require the same discipline and maintenance that physical fitness demands.

This reality exposes the myth of standing still. Organizations are never frozen in place. They are either strengthening or weakening. They are either reinforcing the habits that created success or adapting to lower expectations. The absence of visible crisis should never be mistaken for evidence of health.

The most effective leaders understand that their responsibility extends beyond managing the present. They recognize that every decision, every standard enforced, every difficult conversation held, and every act of accountability contributes either to organizational strength or organizational decline. Like the disciplined athlete who continues training long after the initial gains have been achieved, they understand that maintenance is not separate from success. Maintenance is success.

The body never stops adapting. Neither do organizations. The only question is whether the adaptation is making them stronger or weaker. What takes years to build can often be lost in months, not because someone intentionally destroys it, but because leaders forget that every organization is always training or detraining.

References

American College of Sports Medicine. (2021). ACSM's guidelines for exercise testing and prescription (11th ed.). Wolters Kluwer.

Bompa, T. O., & Buzzichelli, C. (2019). Periodization: Theory and methodology of training (6th ed.). Human Kinetics.

Collins, J. (2001). Good to great: Why some companies make the leap... and others don't. HarperBusiness.

Drucker, P. F. (2006). The effective executive. HarperBusiness. (Original work published 1967)

Edmondson, A. C. (2019). The fearless organization: Creating psychological safety in the workplace for learning, innovation, and growth. Wiley.

Heifetz, R. A. (1994). Leadership without easy answers. Harvard University Press.

Janis, I. L. (1982). Groupthink: Psychological studies of policy decisions and fiascoes (2nd ed.). Houghton Mifflin.

Kraemer, W. J., et al. (2002). Detraining produces minimal changes in physical performance and hormonal variables in recreationally strength-trained men. Journal of Strength and Conditioning Research, 16(3), 373–382.

Mujika, I., & Padilla, S. (2000). Detraining: Loss of training-induced physiological and performance adaptations. Sports Medicine, 30(2), 79–87.

Senge, P. M. (2006). The fifth discipline: The art and practice of the learning organization (Rev. ed.). Doubleday.

Trust, Competence, and the First Follower: A Leadership Philosophy Revisited

Author's Note: This essay began as a personal leadership philosophy paper for a college leadership course, but it evolved into something more meaningful. Nineteen years after publishing Leadership: Texas Hold'em Style, I revisited my original definition of leadership as the art of influencing people toward organizational goals and examined it through the lens of contemporary leadership theory and research. Along the way, I found unexpected connections to my current writing project, Leadership in the Age of Sail, particularly regarding trust, competence, followership, and influence. Rather than changing my understanding of leadership, this course strengthened it by providing academic support for lessons learned through decades of professional service, volunteer leadership, and community involvement. This essay is both a reflection on leadership and an exploration of the foundations that make influence possible.

    Nineteen years ago, in Leadership: Texas Hold'em Style, I defined leadership as the art of influencing people toward organizational goals. At the time, I intentionally chose the word influence because it encompassed the broadest range of leadership behaviors. Leaders influence through encouragement, coaching, mentoring, persuasion, example, discipline, and, when necessary, corrective action. Every leadership action is ultimately an attempt to influence human behavior toward a desired outcome. While I recognized that trust was an essential component of influence, my understanding of leadership was primarily centered on the leader's ability to move people and organizations toward meaningful objectives. After completing this course, I realize that my original definition remains largely intact, but my understanding of how influence is created, sustained, and exercised has become significantly more sophisticated.

One of the most significant concepts reinforced during this course was trustworthiness. As I am currently working on another book, Leadership in the Age of Sail, I have devoted an entire chapter to the subject of trust. Consequently, our group work and discussions surrounding trustworthiness were particularly relevant to my current research and writing. What I found most valuable was the emphasis on competence as a foundational component of trust. While integrity, honesty, and ethical behavior are essential, they are not sufficient by themselves. Followers must also believe that a leader possesses the knowledge, skills, judgment, and experience necessary to navigate challenges successfully.

This concept resonated with me because it aligned closely with conclusions I had already begun developing in my writing. A leader may have excellent intentions, but if followers doubt the leader's competence, trust will eventually erode. Conversely, highly competent leaders who lack integrity may achieve short-term success but ultimately undermine trust through their actions. The research examined during our group project demonstrated that trustworthiness rests upon both character and competence. This understanding expanded my original definition of influence by helping me recognize that influence is not simply a product of authority or personality. Sustainable influence is earned through demonstrated competence and reinforced through trustworthy behavior.

The course also expanded my understanding of followership and its relationship to influence. The video commonly known as The Dancing Guy has been one of my favorite leadership teaching tools for years. I have used it repeatedly in presentations, training sessions, and discussions about leadership. However, this course encouraged me to look beyond the obvious lesson of the lone leader and focus instead on the role of the first follower.

In many of the community organizations where I serve, I often find myself acting as the first follower rather than the person introducing a new idea. Community leadership differs from many traditional organizational settings because success frequently depends on recognizing good ideas developed by others and helping them gain momentum. The ability to identify a worthwhile vision and become its champion may be just as valuable as originating the vision itself. The first follower transforms an individual's action into a movement. Reflecting on this concept caused me to reconsider influence as something that does not belong exclusively to formal leaders. Influence can also be exercised by those who recognize potential, support others, and encourage collective action around a worthwhile goal.

Another important contribution of this course came through Adam Grant's Think Again. Grant argues that effective leaders must remain open to new information and willing to reconsider their assumptions. I found this perspective useful because it reflects a lesson I have learned repeatedly throughout my professional and volunteer experiences. Some of the most valuable people in any organization are those willing to challenge prevailing assumptions and ask difficult questions.

Throughout my career, I have intentionally sought out individuals who are willing to challenge my thinking. In environments where decisions carry significant consequences, mistakes can have far-reaching effects. Whether in law enforcement, community service, or organizational leadership, leaders benefit from people who are willing to identify flaws, question assumptions, and propose alternatives. At the same time, I believe leadership requires balance. There are situations involving ethics, safety, public trust, and organizational liability where leaders must firmly defend core principles. Openness to new ideas should not become indecision. Intellectual humility requires leaders to remain teachable while maintaining the courage to stand firm when circumstances demand it.

Several leadership theories explored during this course support my longstanding belief that leadership is fundamentally about influence. Servant leadership, in particular, aligns closely with my philosophy because it suggests that influence grows when leaders focus on helping others succeed. Rather than viewing leadership as a means of exercising power, servant leadership views leadership as a responsibility to develop people and help them reach their potential. This perspective mirrors my own experiences in volunteer organizations, community service, and professional leadership roles.

Authentic leadership also resonates strongly with my understanding of influence. Authentic leaders create influence by aligning their actions with their values and demonstrating consistency over time. Followers are more likely to trust and follow leaders whose actions match their words. Similarly, transformational leadership focuses on inspiring individuals toward a shared vision and motivating them to accomplish more than they believed possible. While these theories approach leadership from different directions, they all reinforce the central idea that leadership occurs through influence rather than authority.

As I reflect upon this course, I find that my original definition of leadership remains valid. Leadership is still the art of influencing people toward organizational goals. However, I now possess a deeper appreciation for the factors that create and sustain influence. Trustworthiness, competence, followership, intellectual humility, and service to others all contribute to a leader's ability to influence effectively. The course did not replace my understanding of leadership; rather, it provided academic support and theoretical frameworks for ideas I had largely developed through experience.

The most significant impact of this course was helping me better understand the foundations of influence. Nineteen years ago, I focused primarily on the outcome—the ability of leaders to influence people toward worthwhile objectives. This course encouraged me to look more closely at the underlying mechanisms that make influence possible. Trust must be earned. Competence must be demonstrated. Followers must choose to participate. Leaders must remain humble enough to learn while possessing the confidence to act. Together, these lessons strengthened my leadership philosophy and provided new insights that I will apply in my professional work, community service, and ongoing writing projects. Whether serving as a leader or as the first follower, my objective remains unchanged: to help people move toward meaningful goals while becoming better versions of themselves along the way.

 

References

Grant, A. (2021). Think again: The power of knowing what you don't know. Viking.

Mayer, R. C., Davis, J. H., & Schoorman, F. D. (1995). An integrative model of organizational trust. Academy of Management Review, 20(3), 709–734.

Van Dierendonck, D. (2011). Servant leadership: A review and synthesis. Journal of Management, 37(4), 1228–1261.

 

 

Pennsylvania Guard Shapes Army's Extended Basic Leader Course

May 26, 2026 | By Army Sgt. 1st Class Shane Smith, 166th Regiment - Regional Training Institute |

National Guard members assigned to Fort Indiantown Gap, Pennsylvania, are leading the validation effort for the Army's expanded basic leader course, refining the curriculum before it is implemented forcewide later this year. 

The 166th Regiment - Regional Training Institute, which provides training and support to develop leaders through professional military education and training, is serving as the validation site for the new 29-day course. 

Conducted from April 28 to May 26, the validation course expands the previous 23-day curriculum, creating a more field-intensive leadership experience that places soldiers in tactical scenarios designed to evaluate decision-making, troop-leading procedures and squad-level leadership under stress. 

The validation builds on a recent active-duty pilot course conducted at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and positions the Pennsylvania National Guard at the forefront of implementing and refining the Army's updated curriculum for junior noncommissioned officers before fielding it forcewide. 

As part of the validation effort, Regional Training Institute leaders from Nebraska, Colorado, Ohio, Mississippi and Vermont traveled to Pennsylvania to observe how the 166th Regiment planned and executed the new field-focused training. The visiting instructors reviewed training products, lesson plans and evaluation methods that may later be adopted by Regional Training Institutes across the National Guard enterprise. 

"Nothing from the 23-day [basic leader course] is being lost," said Army Master Sgt. James Webb, 166th Regiment basic leader course chief of training. "But a lot is being added — what we're calling reps and sets — which is essentially an additional six or seven days of field training." 

Under the updated program of instruction, students now spend eight days in the field conducting leader-stakes training, land navigation and a culminating situational training exercise that evaluates leadership performance in realistic combat scenarios. 

During the leader-stakes portion of the course, soldiers rotate through training lanes that hone their skill level 10 tasks — entry-level skills required of junior enlisted soldiers, also known as warrior tasks and battle drills. These include medical skills, weapons proficiencies, patrolling techniques and vehicle recovery operations that progressively build tactical proficiency and confidence while preparing soldiers for leadership evaluations later in the course. 

Students train on tasks such as reacting to ambushes and indirect fire, evacuating casualties, requesting medical evacuations, conducting patrol base operations and leading troops. The training grows more complex each day. 

The culminating exercise places soldiers in leadership positions, during which they receive fragmentary orders, develop plans, brief subordinates and execute missions under time constraints and simulated battlefield conditions. 

"The end goal is to develop team and squad-level leaders by putting students in a tactical position and having them execute troop-leading procedures and make decisions," Webb said. "We're not grading them on their ability to do battle drills; we're grading them on the ability to make decisions in a stressful environment." 

During the course, Army Sgt. Maj. Elizandro Jimenez, a basic leader course manager assigned to the U.S. Army Noncommissioned Officer Academy at Fort Bliss, Texas, visited the 166th Regiment to observe how the team implemented the new program and provided feedback on the evolving courseware. 

"Pennsylvania's cadre demonstrated exceptional adaptability while implementing this new curriculum," Jimenez said. "The work being done here is helping shape how the Army develops future noncommissioned officers across the force." 

Students participating in the pilot course said the additional training time and increased tactical focus have made the experience more valuable and realistic. 

"I think the extra week of training will really help people fully understand their roles as NCOs," said Army Sgt. Tyler Kase, a combat engineer assigned to the Pennsylvania National Guard. "It's changed my perspective as a leader and how I'll handle things moving forward when I return to my unit." 

Army Sgt. Drayton Coyle, an infantryman and team leader assigned to the Massachusetts National Guard, said the expanded field training better prepares junior leaders for unpredictable operational environments. 

"You don't know what's going to happen in the Army," Coyle said. "The operational environment and the way we fight is rapidly changing. Having that culminating event — that [situational training exercise] at the end of the course — will help us prepare." 

Give Them Wings, Teach Them to Fly: The Making of a Phoenix Raven

May 21, 2026 | By Jewaun McElroy, Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst |

Opportunity, challenge, travel, legacy — these guiding words form the motivational reason for Air Force security forces defenders as they push through the demanding 28-day Phoenix Raven Qualification Course with the 421st Combat Training Squadron at Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst, New Jersey. 

Phoenix Ravens are tasked with safeguarding aircraft, personnel and critical assets in austere locations where threats may be elevated or unpredictable.

The course equips airmen with the advanced skills and adaptability required for this specialized mission. The curriculum emphasizes cross-cultural awareness, legal considerations, embassy operations, airfield assessment techniques, explosive ordnance recognition, aircraft search procedures and unarmed self-defense. 

"It's our job to prepare these candidates to be able to go straight from graduation to the operational mission and to be able to perform," said Air Force Staff Sgt. Joshua Pineda, course instructor. "We tailor training to be as intense as possible and push them as hard as we can, because our teammates downrange or in hubs right now are depending on us to get it right here." 

The course leadership team is composed of current Ravens, as well as subject matter experts from explosive ordnance disposal, the Air Force Office of Special Investigations and the base judge advocate office.  

From Day 1, trainees are placed in an intense, fast-paced environment designed to test and exceed standard operational limits. Instructors enforce strict discipline and attention to detail, sharpening situational awareness of self, team members and surroundings. 

Physical fitness is consistently integrated as a key training tool, training the mind to maintain mental clarity while replicating the physical strain and fatigue that may be encountered during real-world missions. 

"We push them to their limit here. We try and redline these candidates to put them in a stress inoculation phase that pushes them out to the point where they don't know how to handle a situation," said Air Force Tech. Sgt. Michael Lex, course noncommissioned officer in charge. "We give them the baseline and the foundation to be able to push through that mental barrier, which can happen on every single mission." 

Beyond the stress and mental exhaustion candidates face, conflict de-escalation tests the defenders to see if they have what it takes to earn the coveted Raven tab. 

A Raven's first line of defense is communication. The course emphasizes talking as the primary method for diffusing situations. If those efforts fail, hand-to-hand combat using a baton, a nonlethal weapon, becomes their primary defense. 

To practice these skills, cadets enter the "house of pain" for the initial evaluation. There, they face off against instructors and fellow students wearing distinctive red protective gear. The service member rotates continuously throughout the combative interaction, forcing cadets to adapt to shifting dynamics in the encounter. 

"You never know what you're going to do until you get hit. Not many students that come through have ever been in a fight before, or have gotten hit," Pineda said. "I think the biggest misconception that students have is that there is a way to beat the [evaluation]. The point of training is to beat them but also to teach them to take the hit, keep going and get that situation under control." 

As military operations worldwide evolve, the course leaders continue to play a vital role in securing assets across the globe. They maintain operational proficiency through deployments during their tenure at the training squadron. This real-world experience helps shape the curriculum and enhance credibility with students. 

Weeks of classroom instruction and training for cadets culminate in a field training exercise aboard a decommissioned C-130 Hercules aircraft. Instructors transform into adversaries in scenarios based on past Raven missions, testing to see if students can navigate their way through high-stress, simulated deployment scenarios to protect their assets and personnel. 

Upon completion of the course, graduates are awarded the coveted Raven tab, identifying them as certified Phoenix Ravens, members of an elite force who are ready to tackle any challenge ahead. 

"I think the tab means a lot to everybody [who] wears it, because we all get trauma bonded by surviving the course or any mission that we fly on that may go the wrong way. Like in Afghanistan or Operation Epic Fury, you can experience indirect fire or drones flying at you with [weapons]," Lex said. "You might not be expecting that to happen, but when you look to your left and right, you see the Ravens [who] are there with you, and you know you will get through it together." 

Ravens remain a force that is routinely called upon to protect Air Force personnel, aircraft and resources in uncertain environments around the world. Forged through adversity, discipline and trust, each graduate leaves the course carrying more than just the tab; they carry the responsibility of safeguarding the mission and legacy of those who have served before them.