Sailing True North

by James Stavridis

  It also marked the beginning of the love affair with the young, beautiful Lady Emma Hamilton, which did much to define the personal side of his life. More than twenty years his junior, she nursed him back to health after the Battle of the Nile, and their love affair—hardly a secret in British society—continued for the rest of his life. While they carried on a platonic ménage à trois with Sir William Hamilton, an elder British peer, Nelson fathered two daughters with Emma—one of whom lived to adulthood. After Sir William died in 1803, Nelson intended to marry Emma, but could never obtain a divorce from his loyal wife. This scandal was well known and should have been damaging to Nelson’s reputation, but the public was willing to overlook or ignore it, so long as the nautical hero continued to deliver the big victories.

  Despite his personal peccadillos, Nelson’s reputation professionally was assured by the Battle of the Nile. He then fought another major fleet engagement at Copenhagen in 1801, where he famously deliberately pressed a telescope to the eye that had been blinded earlier in his career, thereby ignoring the signals of his superior, and ended up winning an important victory over the Danes. The phrase “turning a blind eye” was reportedly inspired by the incident. In the Battle of Copenhagen, he is also reported to have said, “It is warm work [British naval expression for heavy combat] and this day may be the last to any of us at a moment; but mark you, I would not be elsewhere for thousands [of pounds].” Nelson’s personal physical courage was a fundamental part of his character and was much remarked upon throughout his career. His victory at Copenhagen led directly to his next promotion, and the level of public acclaim increased as well.

  Promoted to vice admiral, Nelson took command of the crucial Mediterranean squadron with the key mission of forcing the combined French-Spanish fleet to battle. After chasing them to the West Indies (today’s Caribbean) and back, he settled in for a lengthy blockade off the Spanish coast, not far from the Atlantic port of Cádiz. He knew the criticality of a crushing victory, correctly assessing that until the Franco-Spanish fleet was destroyed, Napoleon would continue to dream of an invasion of Britain. To George Rose, a political friend, he wrote, “It is . . . annihilation that the Country wants, and not merely a splendid Victory . . . honourable to the parties concerned, but absolutely useless in the extended scale to bring Buonaparte to his marrow-bones.”

  In 1805, the French-Spanish fleet finally emerged to fight, and at the Battle of Trafalgar, Nelson sent his most famous signal: “England expects that every man will do his duty.” And they did, winning a spectacular victory at sea. The victory was indeed a near-total annihilation of the French-Spanish fleets and ended any chance Napoleon had of invading the United Kingdom. But Nelson was killed by a sniper’s bullet smashing through his spine. The last signal he sent just before the battle was joined was pure Nelson: “Engage the Enemy More Closely.” The French and Spanish lost twenty-two ships, the British a single ship. It was among the most lopsided naval engagements in history, and certainly at the top of the list for geopolitical impact within the era.

  While he lived long enough to know of his victory, he died soon after in agony below decks in Victory, surrounded by his sailors and with his loyal flag captain, Thomas Hardy, by his side. His final words, “Thank God I have done my duty,” continue to echo across the centuries. Upon arriving in England, his body was borne in honor through the streets of London, and he was accorded a state funeral, an extreme rarity for a serving military commander. Monuments to his memory dot the English countryside, and in the center of London Nelson’s Column dominates Trafalgar Square.

  Reflecting on the lessons of character and leadership in the life of Vice Admiral Lord Nelson offers examples of gratifying success and deep personal failure. In terms of successful lessons, Nelson managed throughout his life to devote himself to the higher purpose of serving king and country. Again, and again, he built highly cohesive teams of subordinates united in common cause with high morale, paid particular attention to the needs of his subordinates (during a period when this was extremely rare), and used simple and direct tactical approaches in combat with significant success. His failures were in the personal dimension, and included flagrant adultery, betraying a faithful and devoted wife; an arrogant certainty about his superiority when compared with his contemporaries and his seniors; a complex insecurity that delighted in and aggressively sought the highest level of public recognition; and a willfulness that led him to counterproductive behavior on a variety of occasions.

  There is no doubt that Nelson was truly and deeply devoted to his nation. Throughout both his writings and his reported speeches, he spoke constantly about the need for leaders to set an appropriate example of patriotism and zeal in defense of their king and country. His famous signal, “England expects that every man will do his duty,” is endlessly repeated in British popular culture and official Royal Navy pronouncements. He personified the desire that many people of character have to be part of something larger than themselves, something into which they can fully invest themselves. There is an apocryphal story that when asked one freezing night if he wanted the boatswain to send below for a cloak, he was said to have replied that his zeal for king and country kept him warm. Nautical historian and novelist Patrick O’Brian’s brilliant twenty-volume treatment of a fictional naval officer of the period is centered on Captain Jack Aubrey, who idolizes Nelson. In it, he has Aubrey tell this story of Nelson’s rejecting the cloak, and Aubrey admits that from anyone else it would sound ridiculous, but from Nelson it just seemed to fit with his persona.

  This sense of ironclad duty was a fundamental part of his self-identity and was inculcated in his personality from his earliest days in the English countryside. As we seek to reconcile the challenges of modern life—from balancing the needs of family with the role we play in our nation’s destiny at any level—we can look to Nelson as an exemplar of positive patriotism and belief in the nation. This is the bedrock of character in many ways—a belief in something bigger than any individual—and it is clear in the life of Lord Nelson. He addressed this very simply, saying in a letter, “Duty is the great business of a Sea Officer. All private considerations must give way to it, however Painful it is,” and “Our Country has the first demand for our services; and private convenience, or happiness, must ever give way to the Public Good.” Throughout his life and career, he never wavered from this belief as the centerpiece of his character; and it is worth remembering that he was deployed at sea, away from hearth and home, throughout the majority of his adult life. He lived a life of devotion to his nation.

  For each of us individually, we must learn this lesson along the voyage to character. Love of country—despite the manifest flaws and mistakes we often make as a nation—is a quality that leads to service to others and improves the society lucky enough to develop true patriots. Our national values are the right ones: liberty, democracy, freedom of speech, freedom of education, gender equality, racial equality—we execute them imperfectly to be sure, but they are the right aspirational values to hold. Patriotism, not blind to faults but believing overall in the nation, is a powerful element of character. It can lead to the kinds of acts of heroism that represent the very best that is in each of us, as when a soldier dies in combat or a Peace Corps volunteer is injured serving the nation. And we should remember that at times, patriotism drives acts of protest—like African American football players taking a knee to try to improve racial justice in our nation—that can mystify and frustrate many. But however we judge any specific act of service or protest, we should recognize that patriotism is a powerful force within the best of us that implores each of us to stand up for the country, love it for all our challenges, and work together to improve it.

  Beyond his devotion to the nation, Nelson was a master of leadership and character in assembling the right collection of subordinates and motivating them to pull together as an effective squad—from a handful of sailors manning a gun when he was a young midshipman to the leg
endary “band of brothers” he created among his ship captains when he was a fleet commander. He was able to do this because he applied his already high level of emotional intelligence to sense the individual strengths, weaknesses, and needs of each team member. A good example of this was his melding and motivating his individual ship commanders in the days leading up to the Battle of the Nile, where he focused his captains on working together effectively while also being able to act independently. This type of team-building approach—fanatically adopted by twenty-first-century organizations as diverse as US Navy SEALs and the corporate giant Google—is at the heart of both Nelson’s character and leadership skills.

  Thinking about teamwork in the context of character is important. This holds true in two very important dimensions: with our peers and with our subordinates. So often in our zeal to impress our seniors and to rally our subordinates, we do not pay enough attention to our peers. And truth be told, we are often competing with our peers for a promotion, a raise, or a better slice of the organization’s resources. Far too frequently, we do not build strong teams among our peers. Nelson understood this, and it is a powerful lesson of character that often we can accomplish so much more if we are willing not to take total and personal credit for it. This means being transparent with peers, organizing gatherings where peers can interact both professionally and personally, and above all helping one another in times of trouble.

  The second element of teamwork is building teams among our subordinates. This is done first through demonstrating teamwork at the senior level. When I was a commander of a US Navy destroyer, I would often organize gatherings of my fellow sea captains on the waterfront, if only to have a beer and compare notes. Our subordinates watched this and over time took a similar approach. Commanders can also frequently talk about how important teamwork is for an organization and give substantive rewards—in evaluations, monetary bonuses, or promotions—to those who are using teamwork effectively. Finally, the use of team analysis can be very powerful—prebriefing big events, then debriefing afterward in group sessions with everyone free to applaud or criticize. Building teams is hard work, but again and again we see powerful benefits from doing so. No one of us is as smart as all of us thinking together.

  Closely related to this quality of team building was Nelson’s strong sense that one of his key tasks was taking care of his team. In an era when most captains and admirals relied on brutal discipline and didn’t particularly worry about the needs of their crews in terms of provisions or medical care, Nelson was famous for ensuring that his sailors received the best possible treatment. He worked hard to make sure that food was fresh, water plentiful and unpolluted, and each ship had a competent surgeon. His crews (and his captains) returned his care by idolizing him personally, and his method of caring for his teams became known throughout the fleet as the “Nelson touch.” This kind of care and concern are of utmost importance to leaders today, especially as the idea of “servant leadership” has evolved over the past several decades. For example, when one of his captains died in battle, Nelson said, “I am full of grief for the fate of poor Parker; our only consolation is, that everything has been done which was possible: the breath is not yet gone; but, I dare say, he cannot last until night.” After Edward Parker’s death, Nelson paid for his funeral and helped his widow.

  For each of us, learning the lesson of true compassion toward our subordinates is crucial. Today it is fashionable to speak of servant leadership, and many very senior people espouse this philosophy. But far less often do we see the most senior leaders do tangible things that are of benefit to their subordinate colleagues. This comes at a cost for organizations—in everything from the quality of food in the company cafeteria to salary, bonuses, maternity leave, and vacation days. In the long run this kind of approach provides real benefits that accrue in successful accomplishments.

  Finally, we see in Nelson a highly competent and increasingly experienced war-fighting commander who is unafraid to evolve his own personal tactical approach. He became famous for encouraging initiative in his subordinates, and developed a system of tight, simple signals (most communications in that era were conducted by flag hoist) that could be easily controlled from the quarterdeck of his flagship. Nelson’s tactics at the Battle of the Nile, the Battle of Copenhagen, and above all Trafalgar are still studied, debated, and imitated in fleets around the world.

  Simplifying command and control, whether running a business unit at Amazon or a university economics department, is a crucial attribute for effective twenty-first-century leaders. As Nelson said to a subordinate about the need to make the right tactical decisions instead of blindly following a senior’s orders at the Battle of Copenhagen, “Do you know what’s shown on board of the Commander in Chief? Why to leave off Action! Now damn me if I do. You know Foley, I have only one eye—I have a right to be blind sometimes. [He then placed his telescope to his blind eye.] I really do not see the signal.” His actions ultimately led to victory.

  But there were darker angels at work in the character of Nelson. On the negative end of the spectrum of Nelson’s character, most analysts would begin with his betrayal of his marriage vows and his highly public and deeply hurtful affair with Emma Hamilton. As both an adulterer in his own marriage and a contributor to the instability of the Hamilton marriage, he failed to maintain basic moral principles. While it did not destroy his career, it is difficult to predict how his nation would have looked upon him over time had the apotheosis of Nelson not occurred through his heroic death in an epic naval battle. The lesson here for anyone, of course, is to be true not only to marriage vows, but to the promises we make in life.

  Temptations abound for us all, and Nelson failed in one of the most basic character tests most of us face—fidelity to a spouse. That is not to say he was truly evil or even deeply flawed, but rather that he was human and vulnerable. The lesson for us all is that we must try to live up to the commitments we make, recognizing the challenges in doing so and the price for failing in them. And it also tells us something about the possibility of redemption and the need to balance what we accomplish in our public lives and careers alongside the personal choices we make and the outcomes that ensue.

  Additionally, it is hard to admire Nelson in terms of his elevated view of himself, which probably resulted more from childhood insecurities than from a real sense of superiority. He was quite candid about this need within himself, saying in a letter to a mentor, Admiral Jervis, “If it be a sin to covet glory, I am the most offending soul alive.” While it’s difficult to judge this fully from the perspective of more than two centuries, it seems reasonably clear that Nelson sought to place himself at the center of events, pursued the limelight to an excessive degree (especially given the temper of the times), found almost childish delight in even the most trivial of recognitions, and generally placed an excessively high value on the opinions of others. In an ideal world, his personality would have benefited greatly from a higher degree of modesty and a more relaxed approach to the world’s view of him—a good lesson for us all.

  Tied to this was a powerful sense of personal ambition. He felt he was destined for greatness, talked about it often, and at one point wrote, “In short, I wish to be an admiral, and in the command of the English Fleet; I should very soon either do much, or be ruined. My disposition cannot bear tame and slow measures.” This kind of ambition is so often highly destructive for many individuals. In Nelson, fortunately, it was not only matched with genuine brilliance as a naval officer and combat leader, but also coupled to a sincere and heartfelt sense of patriotism. His ambition, while strong, was grounded in a desire to do well for his nation, even as he found a path to personal glory. Not a bad bargain for England in the end.

  All quotations are taken from Joseph F. Callo, Nelson Speaks: Admiral Lord Nelson in His Own Words (Annapolis, MD: US Naval Institute Press, 2001).

  CHAPTER V

  The Influencer

  Rear Admiral A
lfred Thayer Mahan

  BORN SEPTEMBER 27, 1840, WEST POINT, NEW YORK

  DIED DECEMBER 1, 1914, WASHINGTON, DC

  My curious relationship with Rear Admiral Alfred Thayer Mahan began in 1972, when, as a first-year midshipman, along with 1,200 of my new best friends, I was herded into Mahan Hall at the US Naval Academy to hear a lecture on sea power as part of our class’s indoctrination into the Navy. At the time, I noticed a portrait of the grizzled, bald, mustachioed admiral in the foyer of the building. Despite the nineteenth-century naval uniform, he certainly looked every inch like what he was: an intellectual. The Russian writer Isaac Babel said that an intellectual was a man with spectacles on his nose and autumn in his heart. That would, in many ways, sum up Mahan, whom we would call today a “public intellectual” or perhaps a “defense wonk.”

  He was first and foremost a historian and a scholar. While he accomplished the minimum number of modestly successful seagoing assignments to continue to be promoted, his heart was almost entirely on the intellectual side of the Navy. His classic books about sea power, history, and geopolitics helped shape the course of his country’s emergence as a global power, and Mahan’s work in the early days of the US Naval Institute—the professional organization of the US Navy, Marine Corps, Coast Guard, and Merchant Marine—resonates today. In the end, Mahan’s most important command was not a ship but the Naval War College; his work there continues to help chart a geostrategic course for America more than a century after his departure.