Last wishes of a dying general
My friend and former Air Force colleague Tony Carr has written a thought-provoking new piece about dysfunctional Air Force culture, titled Last Wishes of a Dying General. Tony was a Major when I was a young captain and one of the fastest burners I’ve ever seen in the Air Force. Air Force Intern program, weapons school, SAASS, you name it… he’d done it all, and anyone who knew him would tell you that he was going to be a general, probably with more than one star. Then, after completing his squadron command, this would-be general stunned everybody who knew him by separating. This article explains why, and it has everything to do with the ongoing “disruptive thinking” and “bleeding talent” discussion.
In my recent essay Finding Common Ground, I wrote that it’s not especially helpful to talk about the “best and the brightest” leaving in frustration. However, this really is an example of the best and brightest leaving in frustration.
I won’t repeat Tony’s points here–you should read his essay for yourself–but I want to hit on a couple tangential issues.
First: most of these frustration/disillusionment discussions have focused on the U.S. Army. I thought it was obvious that these issues are common to the services, so I was shocked to hear a recently retired Air Force general tell me that this was an Army-only issue. When I pressed him and offered up numerous stories from my own experience, he told me that I was guilty of projecting my own narrow perspective, then finally suggested that perhaps Air Mobility Command was this way, but we’re oddballs because we have such good career prospects on the outside with the airlines. I couldn’t believe he actually thought that. The Air Force is boiling with frustration, and Tony’s essay–and the extensive commentary on it–gives us a glimpse of what personnel are talking about across the Air Force on their lunch breaks or at Flight Level 350.
Second, senior leader response. Shortly after its publication, this article appeared on an e-mail discussion list that I participate in, one which has many senior military leaders. Only one senior leader (retired) responded, with a disparaging comment about how if Tony really cared about the Air Force, he would have stayed in to make a difference. On the one hand, I was once again dismayed by how many senior leaders are content to blow off the exodus of talent–one of the primary reasons I wrote my essay. On the other hand, I recognize the importance of this point.
Somebody raised this same point in the comments section of Tony’s blog: why don’t you stay in so you can be part of the solution? Tony’s response is one of the best I’ve seen. I’ll post it in its entirety:
The reason I ran a 9-yard route is pretty simple. I took a look at what my boss was doing and realized I had zero desire to do it. Then I looked at what his boss was doing and realized I had even less than zero. The problems outlined in this post (and many more not in this post) were so intractable, and the authority to address them at my level and 1-2 echelons above so limited, that I could see very little prospect for “difference making” in the next 5-10 years. My career was always driven by making a difference, which most successful careers are. Thus, it was simple to me … if I can’t make a difference for the next decade in this system, it’s too broken to ask my family to endure what that decade would mean. Most people willing to stay under such conditions are the type who don’t think they can do anything else with their lives … hence the dynamic you describe.
The notion of unfinished business will always haunt me. But I concluded I could probably make a bigger difference from the outside than from within. Many others have felt the same and acted accordingly. I’ll tell you what might make me different … had I been free to write an article this vocal (or speak these words in a boardroom this clearly) without being either professionally ostracized or cast aside as a malcontent … I would have been much more likely to stay. Behind all of this dysfunction is a drive for mental conformity that prevents us from talking openly about, let alone solving, our problems.
At the risk of being labeled a malcontent myself, these paragraphs literally make me ache because they ring so true. I am driven by that same impulse to make a positive impact on the world, but when I look ahead, I feel despair at the prospects of making a difference within the existing system. Tony is exactly right: the argument that “you should stay in to make a difference” breaks down, if the system is so rigid that it can’t be changed except from the very top.
As for me, I’m still young and plan to stay in for a while. I owe the Air Force a lot, especially because it’s entrusted me with a spectacular education. But the Air Force isn’t making it easy for me, and I earnestly hope that senior leaders somewhere are reading essays like Tony’s and paying attention.
