The Dichotomy of Leadership: Balancing the Challenges of Extreme Ownership to Lead and Win

by Jocko Willink

  I moved around, checking on the guys under the ridiculous onslaught. Our breacher running the quickie saw was taking the worst of it. I moved up to him to see how he was doing.

  “How we looking?” I yelled over the din.

  “Almost there,” he answered, gritting his teeth as multiple paintball rounds impacted his gear at high speed, splattering his load-bearing equipment and leaving nasty welts on his neck, arms, and legs. His back was turned to the enemy, and because he was operating the heavy saw with both hands, he couldn’t even shoot back. But he stood there and took it like a man—a “Big Tough Frogman.” I knelt next to him and returned fire on his behalf to try and suppress the enemy onslaught, to no avail. I got hit from every direction as dozens of paintball rounds slammed into me, stinging my hands, arms, legs, and neck. Pretty soon, the face mask and goggles I wore to protect my eyes were so covered in greasy paint from the paintball rounds, I could barely see. The TRADET instructors wore ChemLights that glowed to mark their position at night and let us know not to shoot them. They were supposed to be off-limits and treated as if they weren’t there. I couldn’t make out much, but I knew where they were located just a few yards away. Knowing they were controlling the situation, I unleashed several paint rounds of my own in their direction, sending the instructors scurrying for cover. Finally, the breacher cut through the steel plate and we rescued the two role-players acting as “pilots.” We then beat a hasty retreat out of the city, cringing at the welts we had received and laughing about how much that evolution had sucked.

  Of all the challenging FTX scenarios we’d been through at MOUT, that was the craziest—and also the least educational. It had gone beyond a difficult scenario that challenged us and turned into nothing more than a huge suckfest that we just had to grit our teeth and bear until it was over. When we got back, I counted at least thirty-seven different paintball impacts on my uniform and op gear, and probably even more that I couldn’t distinguish. That didn’t count the dozen or so that had hit my face mask and goggles. Had they been real bullets, I would have died many times over. When Jocko saw me covered head to toe in colorful paint splotches, he just shook his head and laughed.

  “I guess you guys GOT SOME,” he said with a smile.

  “Yeah,” I said. “We got some alright. We got the ‘full benefit’ of that evolution.”

  The “enemy” attack by the role-players had been so overwhelming, there’d been nothing we could do to counter it. Cutting through the steel plate on the Huey had taken several agonizing minutes—much longer than the TRADET instructors had anticipated. It would have been better training and more educational for us had they eased back the attacks once they realized we were overwhelmed and pinned down, unable to move until the saw cut through the steel. The biggest thing I did learn from the scenario was that in such a situation, we would need a much larger force to clear all the buildings on the entire block and put SEALs on the high ground, to ensure we had tactically superior positions on the enemy and not the other way around. The other thing I learned was that at some point, I had to be willing to cancel a mission. I would have to make the tough call to pull back and abort the mission so we could regroup and re-attack rather than pointlessly sacrifice my entire team.

  In Task Unit Bruiser, we embraced hard training. We took on difficult challenges and physically demanding scenarios with eagerness. But I realized that there was a line. Training had to be hard, but it couldn’t be so hard that it crushed the team and diminished the learning that is supposed to take place. It was a dichotomy that had to be carefully balanced.

  * * *

  On the other side of the dichotomy, good leaders must ensure that training incorporates the most difficult, realistic challenges of the real-world battlefield. There were some SEALs who didn’t want to train hard. They constantly complained at being challenged and driven beyond their comfort zone. They said training was unrealistic, too basic, or that they wanted to work on what they referred to as “advanced tactics.” In truth, most of this was just a euphemism for “I don’t want to train hard; I don’t want to be challenged.” It was weak and frankly shocking to see such attitudes in a few SEALs, but particularly so in experienced SEAL leaders.

  “This training is ridiculous,” one SEAL chief said of the challenges in the training scenarios that TRADET built under Jocko’s leadership. “I’ve deployed multiple times and nothing that bad has ever happened on any of my deployments.”

  But just because someone hasn’t experienced the worst-case scenario in real life doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen. It doesn’t mean the team shouldn’t be prepared for the harshest realities of combat. In fact, quite the opposite is true. The team must be prepared for those worst-case scenarios—multiple downed men at the same time, a vehicle that hits an IED, or a “low-risk” mission that goes horribly wrong.

  Often, one of the biggest points of pushback from such complainers in the SEAL platoon or task unit was that the “enemy” role-players—the SEAL TRADET instructors and other volunteers—were too “good” at their job. They were more skilled and better equipped than any of the enemy fighters we faced overseas. But that should have been embraced as a good thing, challenging the team so it would be more prepared. Besides, many of the enemy fighters we were up against in Ramadi were pretty damned skilled. They had years of real-world combat experience from which they had learned, innovated, and adapted. You could never take them for granted, never get complacent, or they would overrun your position and wipe you out.

  Along with this, another common criticism of why training was too hard was that the training instructors “cheated.”

  “They know our plan,” some SEALs would complain about the role-players. “And we have to follow the rules, while they do not.”

  Jocko countered this with logic: “The enemy fighters you are going up against overseas, they don’t follow rules either: they have no rules of engagement like we do. They use treachery, to conceal their attack or lure you into an ambush. They use women and children as human shields. They use suicide bombers. They set up opposing ambushes where they might shoot each other to try to kill more of us. They don’t care. But we do. We play by different rules than they do. So if my training instructors—our role-players—are breaking the rules: GOOD. That is realistic training. Instead of complaining about it, embrace it and figure out a way to overcome it.”

  Hard training is the solemn duty of trainers and leaders every day.

  It was the mantra that Jocko and his TRADET instructors lived by. And it was incumbent upon them to ensure that training was difficult, that standards were held high so that SEAL platoons and task units were ready to survive and thrive in the toughest environments they might be thrust into on distant battlefields.

  Some leaders strove to make sure their people were happy, which might include overlooking performance deficiencies, allowing the team to cut corners, and not holding the line to train hard, maintain discipline, follow standard operating procedures, and overcome obstacles. Some leaders thought they were encouraging their team through false cheerleading, telling their people they’re doing better than they truly were. And perhaps that’s what the SEAL leaders who complained were seeking. But leaders who never pushed the team outside its comfort zone in training, who didn’t push the standards and drive their team toward exceptional performance, and who didn’t provide a direct and honest critique ended up with less productive, less effective teams that failed when truly tested under the rigors of real-world challenges.

  The best leaders—often those who learned through experience what worked and what didn’t—looked out for the long-term success of the team and the mission. They didn’t shy away from tough conversations to correct underperformance. They held the standards high and ensured the team was fully prepared for the worst-case scenario. Leaders who pushed their people to excel, to continuously learn and grow, enabled their teams to become comfortable in situations where they were previously uncomfortable. By challenging frontline lead
ers and junior or less experienced personnel to take on greater roles and responsibilities, the team implements proper Decentralized Command so that leaders at every level of the team step up to lead. The team then becomes far more effective and able to accomplish its mission. When the team succeeds and outperforms all others, that opens up the biggest opportunities for its people’s long-term success.

  The strategic goal of training must always be to build capable leaders at every level of the team. For this, hard training is essential. But if training is too hard, it will break the team and minimize learning and growth. So there must be balance: train hard, but train smart.

  Principle

  Hard training is critical to the performance of any team; this is clearly the case with SEAL platoons and task units deploying to combat zones, where we say: “You train how you fight and you fight how you train.” The best training programs push their teams hard, far beyond their comfort zone, so that the team can learn from mistakes in training. Hopefully, this prevents the team from making those or similar mistakes in real life.

  In About Face: The Odyssey of an American Warrior, Colonel David H. Hackworth (U.S. Army, Ret.),3 quoted a mentor of his, U.S. Army Colonel Glover Johns: “The harder the training, the more troops will brag.” Ask any SEAL: “What was the hardest BUD/S class?” and you’ll get your answer: their class number. Everyone wants to say that they had it the toughest, that their training was harder than everyone else’s—after the fact, at least. But sometimes in the midst of training some teams want to stay in their comfort zone. Leaders can’t allow that.

  Training must be hard. Training must simulate realistic challenges and apply pressure to decision-makers. There is no growth in the comfort zone. If training doesn’t push the team beyond the limits of what is easy, the team, and particularly leaders within the team, will never develop the capacity to take on greater challenges. But training is designed to make the team better, to enable its members to function in realistic conditions they might face. It can’t be so difficult that it crushes the team, demoralizes it, or overwhelms participants to the point where they fail to learn. As in everything, leaders must find the balance in training and focus on three critical aspects: realism, fundamentals, and repetition.

  Training must be realistic. Every training scenario should be based upon something that is likely to (or could potentially) be encountered in a real scenario. The takeaways must be immediately applicable to the team’s mission. For those who haven’t experienced it, the chaos and uncertainty of the battlefield can be overwhelming. That’s why it was critical to create that chaos as much as we could in training. Training should push the team, and particularly leaders, into realistic, uncomfortable situations where they aren’t sure what to do. In the business world, training must do the same. Role-play scenarios dealing with a problem client or customer, or a high-pressure decision that must be made immediately, when the outcome isn’t certain and the picture not 100 percent clear. Rehearse the contingencies for a serious accident and run the procedures that must be followed even under high stress.

  Training must focus on the fundamentals. While units must adapt and innovate, some basic tactics do not change. Just as this is true in military tactics, it is true in any business or area of life. Often people want to skip through the basic fundamentals into what they call “advanced tactics.” But advanced tactics are worthless if a team can’t do the basics well. Leaders must ensure that a training program develops the foundation of basic fundamentals.

  Training must be repetitive. It is not enough to have a training program for new hires in the first days or weeks that they join the team. Training must be continuous for everyone. Each person gets better with iterations, so it is important to plan repetitive training over time that challenges each member of the team—particularly leaders.

  Take Extreme Ownership of training. Rather than wait for someone else to build a training program or make training more realistic and effective, seize the initiative on your own. The best training programs are not orchestrated from the top but driven from the bottom—the frontline leaders who are closest to the action and the lessons learned. Utilize the most accomplished members of the team to drive training programs and pass on lessons learned to others.

  “We don’t have the budget to train” isn’t a valid excuse. It costs nothing to set up a role-playing scenario to put leaders in situations where they are unprepared, to make tough decisions and therefore make them better.

  “We don’t have time to train” isn’t a valid excuse. Make time for the things that are important. And good training is essential to the success of any team. Building frequently recurring training into the schedule is the most effective way to improve the team’s performance.

  Again, the key to great training is finding balance. Hard training is essential, but smart training is crucial to maximize the use of time and enable optimal learning.

  Application to Business

  “I don’t trust my frontline leaders to execute the mission,” said the senior project manager. “You’re telling us that we need to use Decentralized Command, but I don’t have faith that my junior leaders can properly execute.”

  “Training is how you develop your leaders and build that trust,” I replied. “Let’s take a look at your training program.”

  “We don’t really have one,” the senior project manager responded.

  “Well, that could certainly be your problem,” I observed. “Why don’t you take ownership of building it?”

  * * *

  I had given a keynote presentation to the company’s annual leadership off-site, and the combat principles we wrote about in Extreme Ownership had resonated powerfully with the team. The company brought me back to build a leadership development program for two dozen of the company’s senior leaders—the department heads and senior project managers, just below the c-suite level, who executed the vision of the company’s senior executive team.

  It was a great company with solid leaders in place, some with substantial experience and others fairly new to the team. As a result of their success, the company had experienced rapid growth and expansion. But the dispersion of resources, particularly experienced leadership, on a vast number of projects happening concurrently was causing a problem.

  While eager and aggressive to win, some of the company’s senior leaders recognized that the speed of growth thrust very junior leaders with inadequate experience into critical management positions with little oversight. The senior leaders recognized the risk associated with this in the quality of service the company delivered and the ability of the frontline teams to effectively accomplish the mission on time and within budget.

  As I worked with the company’s senior leaders over the course of many months, I heard a consistent theme: “We don’t have enough experienced leaders in the field to run these projects. We’re piling too much on inexperienced leaders who are unprepared.”

  It was a genuine concern, and a risk that didn’t seem to be fully comprehended by the company’s executive team when brought to their attention.

  I addressed the problem head-on during one of my meetings with the senior leaders in the class. “The point you bring up is a valid one,” I said, “but the only way to prepare those inexperienced leaders is to train them. You need to place them in tough circumstances in training that will prepare them for the challenges of the real world.”

  Some on the team seemed skeptical.

  “How is training ever going to replicate actual experience?” one leader inquired.

  I could see others in the group nodding, agreeing with the premise of the question.

  I explained that training could not replace actual experience. There was nothing better than real-world experience. But I emphasized that challenging training programs that focused on realism, fundamentals, and repetition would greatly improve the performance of their junior leaders. It would also go far to mitigate the risk of failure by inexperienced junior leaders operating with too li
ttle oversight.

  I had talked extensively about the Battle of Ramadi and the lessons we had learned from it. We did this to give context to the group so they fully understood where the leadership principles we taught had come from.

  “Do you know how much experience I had on the actual battlefield as a SEAL platoon commander before I deployed to Ramadi in 2006?” I asked the group.

  Some shrugged. No one answered. They either didn’t know, didn’t want to guess, or perhaps didn’t want to admit the answer.

  “None,” I said. “That was my first time. I had never been a platoon commander before. I had never led a platoon of SEALs in advance of a huge conventional U.S. military force of fifty tanks and thousands of Soldiers and Marines. I had never been in a real firefight before. No one in my platoon had done any of that before.

  “Do you know how much experience Jocko had as a task unit commander, when we deployed to Ramadi?” I continued. “None. And yet he showed exceptional strategic vision in counterinsurgency operations and led Task Unit Bruiser as a key supporting element to the U.S. victory there. The Delta Platoon commander, Seth Stone—he was deploying as a platoon commander for the first time and he proved himself an extraordinary combat leader in his very first firefight.”

  * * *

  I relayed a story that Jocko had told me about Seth and Delta Platoon on their first operation in the dangerous and violent Malaab District of eastern Ramadi. Seth had led his platoon, including Delta Platoon’s courageous and aggressive point man, machine gunner and sniper, J. P. Dinnell, on a patrol with a company of U.S. Soldiers from the legendary 1st Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, “Band of Brothers,” of the U.S. Army’s 101st Airborne Division and their Iraqi soldier counterparts, led by an Army major as their advisor. The 1/506th Soldiers had been on the ground in this volatile neighborhood for months. They’d seen daily, violent combat and scores of intense gun battles. Our Task Unit Bruiser SEALs had only just arrived. Not long after the combined patrol of SEALs, U.S. Soldiers, and Iraqi troops had moved out into the streets of the Malaab, they soon found themselves in what we called a “Big Mix-It-Up”—a significant firefight—as enemy fighters attacked them with machine guns and RPG rockets. The U.S. and Iraqi patrol was pinned down and unable to move. Seth made his way over to the Army major in charge of the Iraqi soldiers, crouching low as bullets zipped past.