One of the most interesting and powerful lessons that I discovered in writing this book was
that each of these five people — that’s Ernest Shackleton the Antarctic explorer;
our sixteenth president Abraham Lincoln; the abolitionist and civil liberties crusader
Frederick Douglass; the resistor to Nazi Germany’s evils Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a pastor; and the
environmental activist Rachel Carson, discover that sometimes doing nothing is the most powerful,
the most significant, the most influential thing a leader can do.
And they discover that mostly by making mistakes, by acting quickly, decisively, rashly in a
high stakes moment when they are highly charged, when they are emotionally very hot in terms
of their temperature, and when people around them are emotionally very hot in terms of
their emotional temperatures.
They discover the power of waiting, of doing nothing when the stakes are high and emotional
temperatures are high.
And they discover this lesson because they make the mistake of acting, of writing, of
speaking out, of making a decision when they are very, very hot under the collar, right?
When their hair on the back of their neck is really on end.
And they realize, “This is not my best mode.
This is not my strongest self.
I can actually do a lot of damage to my mission, my followers, what I’m trying to accomplish
if I make choices when I don’t see myself as clearly, when I’m not as temperate and
careful and thoughtful and reflective and emotionally aware as I might be.”
And so one of the best examples of this is an example that occurred right after the Battle
of Gettysburg.
And I tell it in the conclusion to the book.
Abraham Lincoln has just learned that the Union Army, commanded by a general named George
Meade, has won a decisive battle in three days of bloody fighting in southern Pennsylvania
in Gettysburg against Robert E. Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia.
Lee immediately, after the third day and the defeat, retreats south for Virginia.
And George Meade makes a critical decision at that moment not to pursue Lee’s army
even though Lee’s army is weakened, suffering from great casualties and emotionally demoralized.
But George Meade makes a decision, he thinks it’s very well-founded: his troops were
too tired.
He can’t risk really taking any more losses than his big army, the Army of the Potomac,
has already taken.
Losses on both sides at the Battle of Gettysburg were enormous.
Lincoln learns of this a day and a half later by telegraph in the White House and he is
so frustrated, so angry, so beside himself—he’s pacing the halls of the second floor of the
White House in anger and frustration, and he writes a four-page letter to George Meade
expressing his dissatisfaction.
The dissatisfaction then gives way to anger, the anger gives way to red-hot frustration
on the pages as Lincoln’s pen gathers speed and his emotional temper gathers speed.
And he writes this letter, “You know, you have no idea how disappointed I am.
You could have pursued Lee, crushed that army and ended the war, and now countless deaths
are still to come and the end of the war is nowhere in sight.
I cannot express adequately my disappointment in this situation.”
He writes this letter.
He folds it up.
He puts it in an envelope, and it’s found after he died.
“To George Meade,” says the signature on the front.
Written but never signed or sent, July 1863.
And when I teach this letter to my executives, when I do leadership coaching or when I present
it to my students I say: Imagine if Lincoln had had email, because what Lincoln did in
that moment — I can see him doing it; I've spent a lot of time with Mr. Lincoln over
the years — I can see him sitting back or maybe getting up from his writing desk and
taking a long perambulating walk around his big office and saying, “Wait a minute.
I don’t really have very many generals that I can call fighting generals in reserve.
If I make George Meade angry and he peels off the Union war effort I’ve already gone
through a lot of generals that have disappointed me, and lots of them aren’t my friends.”
So I think he made a very calculated decision, that as frustrated as he was and as disappointed
as he was, he was going to sabotage or do some damage to his mission, to save the Union
and end slavery, if he alienated George Meade who would ultimately talk about it and alienate
other generals for Lincoln.
And so he never sent that letter, and I always say to executives: imagine Lincoln had just
hit send in the heat of the moment if he had email.
Or sent a Twitter message off excoriating Meade.
The course of world history, certainly of U.S. history, might indeed have been different.
So Lincoln gained a great deal by not sending that letter.
The Union was preserved.
Great fighting generals came out of the West by early 1864, Sherman and Grant, to fight
the war that Lincoln knew that needed to be prosecuted.
And the story turned out, in the end, a triumph for Lincoln’s mission.
But he had to exercise the discipline.
He had to realize that doing nothing was the best thing he could do.
And we have to learn that lesson today.
We live in an age when world leaders are expressing vitriol and hatred and their immediate reactive
white-hot emotions in all kinds of media channels because they’re not waiting, they’re not
processing, they’re not taking a yoga breath and they’re not considering that those emotional
expulsions are doing more damage to the world and their followers and a noble cause than
simply remaining quiet and doing nothing in the heat of the moment.