It was the summer of 2001, and I was driving our John Deere 4020 tractor, pulling a rotary hoe.  Rain had come right after planting, and then drought set in. There was a thick crust of topsoil which was preventing our corn and milo plants from breaking through the surface.  A rotary hoe’s job, then, is to disturb the surface of the soil to break it up, but not so much that it would cause major damage to growing crops that had poked their stalks out already or to the seedlings butting up against the underbelly of the crust.  It is the agricultural equivalent to a backrub from a toddler.  There is enough pressure applied to tell something is happening back there, but it is not enough to feel like anything helpful is being accomplished.   

There was no air conditioning or radio in the cab, the windows would only open a crack and then would bang shut and swing back open methodically as the tractor clambered through the field.  It was over a hundred degrees outside, and the dust settling on my sweaty limbs was making a crust of its own.  These are the days that one must commit to scream singing the same partial song stuck in one’s head in perpetuity, mentally writing oneself into episodes of favorite sitcoms, or doing actual soul searching.  By lunchtime, I had decided to change my major.  I was leaving journalism and going into political science.  Why is this relevant?  Because 21 years later, when writing a blog about effective leadership, it was one of the very first times I thought I might put that degree to use.  I was wrong, of course, but that will all become clear a couple of tangents from now. 

As one may predict by reading these blogs, my brainstorming process for their authorship is a bonafide squirrel chase.  Step one is always marinating in procrastination and writer’s block, followed often by reflecting upon a series of flawed directional paths which fizzle out like spent sparklers after a few dazzling moments.  Next comes the research phase to ensure what I remember is the correct version of historical events, and then something generally equal parts nonsensical and common sensical eventually assembles.  For today’s blog, the first distracting, directional tributary was my secondary goal of putting my political science degree to use.  I spent too much time refreshing my recollection on political theorists and philosophers about governance, leadership, and basic human liberties to try to write about effective leadership themes.  And then I remembered the race to the South Pole.   

For anyone who has not been lucky enough to go through my husband’s Bobcat Football Leadership Academy or who was born in the last century, you may have missed this story.  It was 1911, and discovery was afoot.  Two teams of men were competing for the bragging rights and glory that would result from being the first to reach the South Pole.  Personally, I think the search for the North Pole holds more promise, with the narwhals, Santa’s Workshop, and candy cane forests, but I digress.   

British explorer Robert Scott and Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen led the teams.  On October 18, 1911, Amundsen's team began its expedition to the pole. Captain Scott began his journey three weeks later. On December 14, 1911, Amundsen’s team reached the South Pole.  This was 33 days before Scott arrived with his men. Amundsen and his crew returned to their base camp on January 25, 1912, 99 days after their initial departure from the base.  All five members of his team survived the trip, and they returned with 11 of the 52 dogs they brought with them. 

Scott and his team left their base camp on November 1, 1911. He reached the South Pole on January 17, 1912, disappointed that the Norwegian had already signaled victory with the raising of Norway’s flag on the pole. After an arduous attempted return to their base camp, Scott and his men succumbed to the elements.  A blizzard kept he and his men from reaching their supply depot, so they were out of food and fuel.  Scott’s body was frostbitten and gangrenous when he died in a state of hypothermia, dehydration, and malnourishment, mere miles from their team’s supplies.  His last journal entry was dated March 29, 1912.   

Obviously, Amundsen’s expedition was the more successful one, but the leadership study comes in examining why this is so.  Scott’s team cut corners in preparation for this journey.  He and his team spent time playing sports for recreation instead of training for expedition-related activities.  They did not take enough care to deposit supplies where they would need them instead of where was more convenient in preparation for a hasty departure.  While the ultimate goal of the expedition was reaching the South Pole first, Scott also had other goals for scientific discovery, which tied up time, energy, and cargo space, increasing the weight of their freight with the addition of extraneous equipment and samples.  They brought several modes of transportation, including horses and dogs, but they ultimately utilized their men to do the bulk of the work towing their supplies, out of what seemed to be hubris and a lack of strategic planning and preparation.  The horses did not survive, and the sled dogs were sent back to base camp, as Scott did not believe they would handle the topography well. This led to exhaustion of the men, longer days in travel, and unnecessary injury and exposure to the elements for their team.  Finally, Scott’s journal reflected a lot of negativity and desperation in its entries, especially once the team discovered they were late to the pole and started the trip back.  The tone of his writings leads one to believe their fate was sealed mentally and emotionally long before they succumbed to the cruel atmospheric conditions.     

The Amundsen team, on the other hand, spent their time pre-expedition training for the skills they would need and making improvements to their equipment to better serve them in the harsh elements they would encounter.  They practiced cross-country skiing and refined their skis, clothes, and tents to be more effective in the terrain and climate.  They did research and sought advice and help of those with valuable experience to prepare themselves.  They selected dogs as their single mode of sled propulsion.  These dogs were native to cold climates and accustomed to freezing and snowy conditions.  As a result, Amundsen relied less on human labor to get them from place to place.  He took care to strategically place their supplies where they would need them throughout the journey and ensured they were conspicuously marked with dark flags spanning a wide range which would make them hard to miss, even if they were slightly off target on their return path.  They worked smarter, not harder, traveling fewer miles and hours each day, to allow the team and animals to rest and recuperate before each new adventure.  Finally, they had only one goal, getting to the South Pole first.  They did not divert any efforts, resources, or storage toward personal gain or glory that would come from making other scientific discoveries during the trip. 

What are our takeaways regarding effective leadership from this journey through time?  Although Roald Amundsen did a plethora of things well, there are a few I wish to highlight for you as you plot a course for your next expedition.  First, he and his team were laser focused on a clear goal, and he did not let ego or greed distract them from obtaining it.  Second, he understood that planning and preparation in advance of the trip was indispensable to their success.  Third, he practiced servant leadership by not asking his team to do anything he himself was not doing, he protected them and met their basic needs for survival, and he helped them have the best opportunity for success by ensuring they were adequately trained and had the confidence and focus to endure hardship along the way.  Fourth, his decisions and actions were ethical and well-reasoned, demonstrating that he valued his team, understood their contribution to the accomplishment of their shared goal, and that they deserve respect and fair treatment for their sacrifices toward the effort.  Finally, he kept his composure, exuded confidence in their ability to meet their goal, and he did not let negativity permeate their expedition and unravel their chances of success.    

This is all very good, but what does this have to do with political science and tractors?  Not a lot.  However, they demonstrate how easy it is to fall into a trap and miss the mark on achieving your goals.  When I set out to write this blog, my goal was clear.  I was going to write about effective leadership.  Somewhere along the way, I got distracted by my self-serving goals of trying to feel better about getting a political science degree in the first place and trying to sound semi-intelligent by quoting political theorists and applying their principles to today’s brand of leadership.  In the end, those lessor, selfish goals distracted from the main one, wasted time and words, and created noise and distraction, like the roar of the tractor’s engine or the banging of the windows that refused to stay propped open in the cab.   

Leadership is a journey, not a destination.  To be an effective leader, I encourage you to think of it as a verb, not a noun.  Unlike political science degrees that are handed out like coupon flyers at the grocery store, you will never get your certificate in the mail saying you have achieved leadership.  It is something you practice and attempt to perfect.  Good leaders never claim it like a victory, raise their flag over it, take their dogs and bros, and go home.  They never let up.  They keep their focus on their goal, are consistent in their intensity and effort level to reach it, and they continue to follow one good decision after the other in hopes of obtaining it.   

If Amundsen had pulled back the throttle after his team hoisted the flag, their story could have ended like Scott’s.  Afterall, they had already achieved what they set out to do, and the return trip seemed like a mindless task they could phone in, somewhat like tickling the dirt with a rotary hoe.  But he did not.  Successes and failures are snapshots in time.  Sometimes it only takes one mistake, like missing a supply depot, to derail what is otherwise a successful mission.  Do not let that happen.  Keep your eye on the goal, support and value the team that will help you get there, stay focused and positive, and continue stringing together one good decision after the other until you can hoist your flag and move onto the next goal.  I am but a lowly political scientist and a cavewoman lawyer, but I have faith in you.  Get out there and lead!