Leadership lessons

Jason Galui and the Third Armored Cavalry Regiment preparing for combat operations in Kuwait in April 2003. (Courtesy of Jason Galui)

In April 2003, I led 115 soldiers and 49 vehicles across the Kuwait-Iraq border, destined for Fallujah and Ramadi, Iraq. As we prepared to launch combat operations, I did not try to deliver a Henry V-like speech to my soldiers. I didn’t need to. I simply encouraged them to trust our preparation and gave instruction that our weapon status was now “red,” meaning that we could fire if we felt threatened. The Third Armored Cavalry Regiment had trained almost ceaselessly for Operation Iraqi Freedom, and there was very little left to add.

The reality is that inspiring people is not accomplished by delivering charismatic speeches. The single most important aspect of leadership is trust, and that can only be earned through deliberate and daily displays of competence, character, and commitment.

Though I spent four years at West Point training to become the best leader I could possibly be, many of the lessons I learned about leadership came years before my time as a servicemember. Funny as it may sound, the experiences I found myself relying on most while leading soldiers into combat were those I had during the 18 years I spent playing hockey as a goalie.

Commanders’ competence

Competence – the ability to do something successfully or efficiently – relies on being technically and tactically proficient. It’s the application of sound judgement. Leaders who are skillful masters of their responsibilities increase the confidence of those on the teams they lead and the likelihood of achieving organizational success.

I started skating at age 5, chose to be a goalie at age 6, and played hockey competitively all through college. In my playing days, proving my competence as a goalie was relatively simple: I had to keep the puck out of my net. Doing so was how I could give my team the best chance to win. While it was simple in theory, however, it could be fiendishly difficult in practice. To succeed, I had to be technically and tactically proficient. I had to master the fundamentals of goaltending, understanding the game of hockey so I could anticipate incoming shots and put my body in the right position to make the save. If I could do all that, then it would boost my teammates’ confidence that I could do my job – and better enable them to do theirs.

Preparing to lead in the Army was very similar in key respects. I trained hard to become technically and tactically proficient in my various roles so that my soldiers knew I was competent and that they could count on me, especially at times when I would have to make difficult decisions. To give them that confidence, I had to master the ability to effectively shoot, move, and communicate. I had to be competent in planning, coordinating, and executing complex orders. And that required practicing my craft daily – just like when I was a hockey goalie.

Jason Galui and Team America Hockey at a tournament in the Soviet Union in April 1989. (Courtesy of Jason Galui)

Character counts

Competence alone is not enough to inspire people. Leadership also requires character. That means understanding your values and having the ability to use your competence as a leader to put those values into action. Leaders who act in accordance with their values instill confidence in those they lead.

To trust a leader, soldiers must be certain that they will do as they say and say as they do. That means that integrity – the quality of being honest and having strong moral principles – is paramount. Any gap between what leaders say and what they do can erode the confidence of those meant to follow them. As both a goalie and then a military officer, one way I sought to earn the trust of my teammates was through displays of integrity: always putting my values, beliefs, and skills into action.

Good leadership also requires admitting when you make mistakes, and then learning from them. That may not be easy, but it is important in sports and in combat. When I was playing goalie and someone managed to score on me, I would take a short skate outside my crease and mentally replay what had just happened – while mentally correcting whatever error I’d just made. And when, in the Army, I was scored on – that is, when our unit failed to meet mission objectives – I would take a moment to reflect on what had occurred, replay it in my mind or with my soldiers, and then make the necessary adjustments so that we would get it right next time. In combat, unlike in hockey, we often did not get second chances to get it right, so learning from mistakes was essential.

Leaders of character are quick to give credit to others and even quicker to take the blame for failures. This is particularly important for hockey goalies, who can’t hide when they’re scored on. Whenever someone scores a goal, a red light flashes, the horn blares, and fans cheer or boo – and sometimes throw insults at the netminder. But a good goalie uses each puck that gets by them to strengthen their humility. As a young hockey player, I quickly learned how to treat success and failure the same – as opportunities to learn, improve, and make my teammates better.

Jason Galui at an Army hockey alumni game at West Point in October 2010. (Courtesy of Jason Galui)

Paying it forward

The third element to earning the trust of teammates and soldiers is commitment. As a goalie and then an Army officer, in order to demonstrate my commitment to my teammates and soldiers, I practiced three things daily. First, I made sure always to be where I was supposed to be – prepared and on time. This practice showed those around me that I respected them and their time and that I would never ask of them anything that I would not do myself. Second, both in hockey and the Army, I always did what I was supposed to be doing. It was a lesson I learned from my father – that there is a time and place for everything. So, when it was time to practice the technical skills of goaltending or of soldiering, those tasks held all my focus. Third, whatever I was doing, I always tried to show my soldiers and teammates that I was doing it to the best of my ability.

Those three practices, as simple as they may sound, proved very important, since they conveyed to others my commitment to our collective goals and shared purpose. They provided my soldiers and teammates with a sense of reassurance and predictability. During the stress and chaos of combat or in the heat of the game, my soldiers and teammates knew there was a steady hand at the helm.

As all of the above shows, both hockey and the military taught me what it takes to earn others’ trust. Trust involves mutual vulnerability, relying on others to take various risks and accomplish objectives together. Without trust, there can be no real relationship between a leader and those who follow them. Leadership is the art of inspiring others toward common goals for a shared purpose. Leadership at its foundation is the ability to influence others through relationships. Therefore, without real relationships, real leadership cannot exist.

Of course, while the tenets of leadership on the ice and the battlefield may look very similar, the consequences of failure are vastly different. As a goalie, if I was incompetent, compromised my integrity, or failed to show commitment to the team, the worst that would happen is that we might lose the game. As an Army officer, on the other hand, such failures could mean someone dies. Poor leadership in combat is not something you can shower off in the locker room.

But in combat and sports, leadership, at its core, is about others. It’s about enabling others’ success. As a goalie, since I could never score a goal, I could never win a game for my team. But I could put my team in position to win. The same is true for leading soldiers into combat. I could not accomplish any mission alone, but through my incompetence I could single-handedly jeopardize the lives of my soldiers. In the military as in sports, it’s never really about you. That might be the most important leadership lesson of all.