The Rickover Effect:How One Man Made a Difference – Theodore Rockwell

In italics are the quotes of Admiral Hyman. G. Rickover
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The untrodden path is choked by the weeds of tradition. Be not afraid to cut through.
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The Development of naval nuclear propulsion plants is a good example of how one goes about getting a job done. It is a good subject to study for methods . . . It has involved the establishment of procedures and ways of doing government business for which there was no precedent, and which I believe will be necessary in the future for similar large projects.
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It is said that a wise man who stands firm is a statesman,
and a foolish man who stands firm is a catastrophe.
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What it takes to do a job will not be learned from management courses. It is principally a matter of experience, the proper attitude, and common sense—none of which can be taught in a classroom. . . .Human experience shows that people, not organizations or management systems, get things done.
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To practice a profession one must have acquired mastery of an academic discipline as well as a technique for applying this special knowledge to the problems of everyday life. A profession is therefore intellectual in content, practical in application.
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To do a job effectively, one must set priorities. Too many people let their “in” basket set the priorities. On any given day, unimportant but interesting trivia pass through an office; one must not permit these to monopolize his time. The human tendency is to while away time with unimportant matters that do not require mental effort or energy. Since they can be easily resolved, they give a false sense of accomplishment. The manager must exert self-discipline to ensure that his energy is focused where it is truly needed.
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In Defense of a Parochial Viewpoint

Rickover had cornered much of the nation’s high-temperature stainless steel for his projects—some six hundred tons—and was under great pressure to release some of it for jet fighters being built for the Korean War. Lou Roddis had a call from a staffer in the office of the secretary of defense, warning that Rickover was about to create a serious national emergency and Roddis would be smart to get him to back off. Roddis hurried into the Captain’s office to pass on the warning, but it didn’t take Rickover long to figure how he felt about the matter:
“Roddis, you want to me take a statesmanlike position, to rise above my parochial viewpoint, to consider the good of the nation as a whole, and perhaps the good of all humanity, is that it? Well, I’m not going to do it. You’re not in a position to judge just how urgent or important their need really is. Neither am I. What I do know is that I have been ordered by the president of the United States to have a ship ready to go to sea by January 1955, and I intent to do my damnedest to make that happen. If the president and the secretary of defense, who have responsibilities for both programs, ask me to back off, I will. But all we know at the moment is that some staffer thinks it would be easier to get the stainless steel from me than to do what I did and go out and find it. Well, he’s going to find it’s easier for him to get a shovel and dig it out of the ground than to get it from me.”
Roddis was willing to let it go at that, but Rickover wasn’t through. “You guys are always telling me I should be more reasonable. People would like me better, and life would be beautiful, if I’d only be reasonable. Well, I don’t see any advantage to the Naval Reactors program of being reasonable. Suppose they start talking about cutting back the Reactor Development Division budget. Everybody is supposed to be reasonable and absorb part of the loss. Do you think anybody’ll say, ‘Let’s talk to Rickover, he’ll be reasonable?’ Hell, no. They’ll do anything they have to, to keep them from talking with me about it. They’d rather take the cuts themselves. So tell me: Is my attitude beneficial to the project, or not? I’m not asking what’s the best way to have lots of friends and get invited to parties. I’m asking what’s good for the project.”
Roddis said he couldn’t argue with that, and Rickover wrapped it up with “All right. You’ve had your sermon for the week. That leaves you free to come in here Sunday. Now quit trying to make problems for me. I’ve got enough real ones already.”
And no more was ever heard on the matter.

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Training Lessons
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A paper that particularly intrigued many of the engineers involved the way scientists and engineers evaluate situations, make judgments, and communicate their reasoning, as compared with the way executives and other decision makers do these things. Panoff and I discussed this one far into one rainy evening. I had been on travel and had not yet read the paper; I had just skimmed through it and planned to read it more carefully later. So Panoff told me what he had gotten out of it.
“Well, this guy says that some people, particularly scientists—and I guess that would include engineers and most of us—we tend to see things in terms of similarities. If we do something wrong, it bothers us, as it would anybody. But we try to understand the mistake in terms of general principles. And when we find where we went wrong, and see that the basic principles that rule the world are still in place, then we feel OK. It was only a little mistake; everybody makes mistakes, right?”
“Yeah, natch. But what’s the point? How else can you look at it?”
“Ah hah! You’ve just revealed yourself as a ‘similarities man.’ No surprise there. But the ‘difference men,’ mostly business executives and certainly including our Beloved Leader, see things in terms of differences. Each morning they look for changes from the day before. Should they buy or sell? Fire or hire? Every difference, no matter how small, is scrutinized to see what action is required, either to correct for an incipient problem or to take advantage of a perceived opportunity. And when similarities man—you or me— has decided that his little mistake is OK because the principles are still in place, all the difference man can see is that you were wrong, not right. Black, not white. There are no grays in his world.”
“I’ll admit that sounds familiar. So what do we do about it? Just wring our hands?”
“No, there’s a way. Just stick with me. A similarities guy always wants to present his story step by logical step—I know I do— starting with ‘Now, you’ll agree that so-and-so’ and ending with the logically inescapable conclusion. But the Captain always cuts me off by screaming, ‘I’m not agreeing to anything yet. Where are you trying to lead me? The difference man wants the big picture first, then he’ll fill in as many details as he thinks he needs. In fact, I’ve gone in there with all my arguments lined up and documented, and—having read this article—I give him the punchline first. I ask for what I want, with no backup. And sometimes he just says, ‘OK,’ and when I try to give him all the backup and rationale, he just yells, ‘Get out of here, Panoff, before I change my mind.’”
He paused, looked around, and then said, “Wait a minute, let me try something.”
He picked up two partially filled water glasses and poured the fuller one into the other, to bring the levels about equal. He put them down in front of me and said, “You haven’t read the article yet. Just tell me about these two glasses.”
“Well, they are physical objects, not an abstraction or an idea. They are man-made. They are made of glass and contain water. They. . .”
“Can’t you see any differences between them?”
I looked long and hard at the glasses and then said, “Well, nothing significant. This one seems to be little fuller, maybe.”
“Believe it or not, I tried the test on the Boss. He was amused, but he went along with it. I asked him to describe the two glasses. ‘Which one?’ he asked. I asked him to consider them together. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he says. “One has a chip and the other doesn’t. One is fuller than the other. One has a dirty fingerprint on it,’ and he went on and on. I’ll have to admit, the article really helped me see why I was having so much trouble communicating with the Old Guy.”

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When I came to Washington before World War II to head the Electrical Section of the Bureau of Ships, I found that one man was in charge of design, another of production, a third handled maintenance, while a fourth dealt with fiscal matters. The entire Bureau operated that way. It didn’t make sense to me. Design problems showed up in production, production errors showed up in maintenance, and financial matters reached into all areas. I changed the system. I made one man responsible for his entire area of equipment—for design, production, maintenance, and contracting. If anything went wrong, I knew exactly at whom to point. I run my present organization on the same principle.
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One must permit his people the freedom to seek added work and greater responsibility. In my organization, there are no formal job descriptions or organization charts. Responsibilities are defined in a general way, so that people are not circumscribed. All are permitted to do as they think best and to go to anyone and anywhere for help. Each person is then limited only by his own ability.
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One must create the ability in his staff to generate clear, forceful arguments for opposing viewpoints as well as for their own. Open discussions and disagreements must be encouraged, so that all sides of an issue will be fully explored. Further, important issues should be presented in writing. Nothing so sharpens the thought process as writing down one’s arguments. Weaknesses overlooked in oral discussion become painfully obvious on the written page.
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Complex jobs cannot be accomplished effectively with transients. Therefore, a manager must make the work challenging and rewarding so that his people will remain with the organization for many years. This allows it to benefit fully from their knowledge, experience, and corporate memory.
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When doing a job—any job—one must feel that he owns it, and act as though he will remain in that job forever. He must look after his work just a conscientiously, as though it were his own business and his own money. If he feels he is only a temporary custodian, or that the job is just a stepping stone to a higher position, his actions will not take into account the long-term interests of the organization. His lack of commitment to the present job will be perceived by those who work for him, and they, likewise, will tend not to care. Too many spend their entire working lives looking for the next job. When one feels he owns his present job and acts that way, he need have no concern about his next job.
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It is a human inclination to hope things will work out, despite evidence or doubt to the contrary. A successful manager must resist this temptation. This is particularly hard if one has invested much time and energy on a project and thus has come to feel possessive about it. Although it is not easy to admit what a person once thought correct now appears to be wrong, one must discipline himself to face the facts objectively and make the necessary changes—regardless of the consequences to himself. The man in charge must personally set the example in this respect. He must be able, in effect, to “kill his own child” if necessary and must require his subordinated to do likewise.
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Ironing Out the procedures
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Admiral Rickover always insisted on operating by the book. To those who knew him only by reputation, such a characterisation may seem surprising, for he was often portrayed as a person who had little regard for rules or protocol. This is not the paradox it may seem. Rickover was keenly aware that there are two kinds of rules. He understood that laws of nature, such as effects of gravity, or radiation, or excessive temperature or pressure, cannot be gotten around by fast talk, political influence, or any other subterfuge. On the other hand, man-made rules are a different entity. Some, such as laws passed by legislative bodies, must be obeyed, and he was scrupulous about this. Others, such as bureaucratic procedures defining how one may carry out assigned responsibilites, sometimes can and should be circumvented, he felt. In particular, those procedures that “everyone” followed because “it’s just our policy” he not only spurned but did so with great pleasure.
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It is a sad comment on the decline of individualism in America that the critic has no friend in court. He is tagged “controversial,” the worst that can happen to anyone in a conformist society. The “controversial” tag makes him by definition a “flawed” personality, not group-adjusted, one-sided, ill-informed, frustrated and motivated by ill will.
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The Large Ship Reactor Project and Civilian Atomic Power

As machines relieve us of the brutal, tiring, and time-consuming labor that had been the lot of the majority of men from time immemorial; as they enable us to universalize affluence and leisure, we face a choice: we may take these benefits and live the life of the idle rich of old, pursuing a good time and not bothering about the quality of our own life or the life of the nation. Or, we may decide to emulate those—and there were many—who in the past considered wealth and leisure a trust, to be utilized for self-improvement and for improvement of their particular societies. The choice is for each individual to make. Moreover, each individual, under our form of government, has a right to speak out publicly in favor of making better use of science and technology than is possible under present conditions.
If those who agree with this new viewpoint become a majority; in other words, if a consensus is reached through public discussion of this issue, the American people may decide to take action. The action may displease powerful vested interests, but this is how we govern ourselves. The status quo has no absolute sanctity under our form of government. It must constantly justify itself to the people in whom is vested ultimate sovereignty over this nation.
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There were several forces lined up against giving the civilian project to Rickover. There were those who were disturbed at further encroachment by the military into the civilian scene. And there were those who felt that pressurized-water reactors represented only one small slice of the wide spectrum of possible reactor design: there were liquid metals, gases, organic fluids, and other untried coolants; there were heavy water, natural water, beryllium, graphite, and other neutron moderators; there were highly enriched slightly enriched, and natural uranium fuels, in the form of alloys, oxides, carbides, or even hydrides. All these exotic materials, in various combinations, offered an endless path of alluring research. How could anyone decide now, they argued, without trying at least a few of the other approaches to reactor design?
In response to this situation Rickover published, in a technical journal of the field, his classic definition of the differences between new reactor concepts (“paper reactors”) and real reactors plants. He noted that a paper reactor generally has the following characteristics:
It is simple.
It is small.
It is cheap.
It is light weight.
It can be built very quickly.
Very little development is required: it will use off-the-self components.
It is in the study phase; it is not being built now.
By contrast, a real reactor has the following characteristics:
It is complicated.
It is large.
It is heavy.
It is being built now.
It is behind schedule.
It requires an immense amount of development on apparently trivial items.
It takes a long time to build because of its engineering development problems.

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As a guide to engineering ethics, I should like to commend to you a liberal adaptation of the injunction contained in the Oath of Hippocrates that the professional man do nothing that will harm his client. Since engineering is profession which affects the material basis of everyone’s life, there is almost always an unconsulted third party involved in any contract between the engineer and those who employ him—and that is the country, the people as a whole. These, too, are the engineer’s clients, albeit involuntarily. Engineering ethics ought therefore to safeguard their interests most carefully. Knowing more than the public about the effects his work will have, the engineer ought to consider himself an “officer of the court” and keep the general interest always in mind.
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Traditionally, the professional man follows certain tacit or explicit rules of conduct which vary in detail vary in detail as between different professions. Basic to all of them, however, are two rules: first, the obligation to reject lay direction in the performance of professional work—that is, the duty to maintain professional independence; and second, the obligation to use professional knowledge and techniques solely for the benefit of their clients. . .
Service ceases to be professional if it has in any way been dictated by the client or employer. The role of the professional man in society is to lend his special knowledge, his well-trained intellect, and his dispassionate habit of visualizing problems in terms of fundamental principles to whatever specific task is entrusted to him. Professional independence is not a special privilege but rather an inner necessity for the true professional man, and a safeguard for his employers and the general public. Without it, he negates everything that makes him a professional person and becomes at best a routine technician or hired hand, at worst a hack.
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In Greek mythology, Antaeus was a giant who was strong as long as he had contact with the earth. When he was lifted from the earth he lost his strength. So it is with engineers. They must not be isolated from the real world. . . The Devil is in the details, but so is salvation.
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The wise use of technology calls for a higher order of thinking than we have so far accorded it. We have largely left it to the management of practical men. I submit that we now have scientific knowledge of such immensely dangerous potential that we ought to bring a broader range of intellectual power to bear upon its use.
I think one can make a general statement that the practical approach to a new scientific discovery is short-range and private, concerned with ways to put the discovery to use in the most economical and efficient manner, little thought being given to side effects and future consequences. The scholarly approach—if I may use this term—is long-range and public; it looks to the effects which the use of a new discovery may have on people in general, on the nation, perhaps on the world; present and future. . . .What is important is to recognize that each approach is necessary to illuminate the problem and help solve it. To exclude the one or the other prevents finding a way to reconcile technology and democracy. . .
Conservation has had extremely hard sledding in this country because we worship practical men and have little respect for scholars. This is not an intelligent point of view in today’s world.
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Nature is not as forgiving as Christ.
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It is high time we give thought to the proper function of administrators. I suggest that at the top level they set policy and see to it that policy is carried out; that at lower levels they provide the environment and the material needed by the organization’s productive workers; and that at the bottom they perform housekeeping and clerical chores. Administration is, or ought to be, a necessary overhead to aid production, and should at all times be kept as low as possible.
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A frank and perceptive editorial in a recent Dupont publication, entitled “The Great Talent Search,” remarks wryly that in competing for qualified professional men, business is handicapped since the only incentive it has to offer is money, whereas professional and academic life provide many intangible incentives. It is but a short step from recognition by business that there are other than monetary incentives to the realization that it, too, can provide such incentives.
American businessmen are noted for their ingenuity. They could, I am sure, educate their management people to understand that it isn’t good business to pay for professional services and then downgrade all one’s bright young men to routine technicians.
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Everything new endangers something old. A new machine replaces human hands; a new source of power threatens old business; a new trade route wipes out the supremacy of old ports and brings prosperity to new ones. This is the price which must be paid for progress and it is worth it.
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All new ideas begin in a non-conforming mind that questions some tenet of the “conventional wisdom.” All improvements originate in a critical mind that mistrusts the “image” projected by some powerful organism. The innovator of ideas and the social critic are essential to a free society; they are what make the society free.
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“Here They Come Again”
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It is not the critic who counts, not the one who points out how the strong man stumbled, or how the doer of deeds might have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred with sweat, and dust, and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, if he wins, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, if he fails , at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

–Roosevelt
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I had applied for the nuclear submarine program, and Admiral Rickover was interviewing me for the job…Finally, he asked me a question and I thought I could redeem myself. He said, “How did you stand in your class at the Naval Academy?”…I swelled my chest with pride and answered, “Sir, I stood 59th in a class of 820!” I sat back to wait for the congratulations-which never came. Instead, the question: “Did you do your best?” I started to say, “Yes, sir”, but I remembered who this was…I finally gulped and said, “No, sir, I did’nt always do my best.” He looked at me for a long time, and then he turned his chair around to end the interview. He asked one final question, which I have never been able to forget-or to answer. He said, “Why not?”

Jimmy Carter, Why Not the Best?
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The professional person’s standing in the community depends, in final analysis, on the public’s insight of his work, that is, on the educational level of the man in the street. When specialized knowledge of professional people is incomprehensible to the average man, he is apt to flounder between frustrated suspicion and excessive awe, leading him either to interfere unduly with professional independence or to accept naively every claim made by anyone who calls himself a professional. The relationship between the expert and the public is one of the central problems of our day. . .
Thus we observe a widening gap between the experts and the public who depend for their well-being on the work of these experts. This disturbing cleavage exists in the humanities no less than in science. Thus most people are not well informed in such vital matters as the languages and cultures of the various peoples who share this earth with us; the historic, geographic and economic background of current events; the place of American civilization in the estimation of the world; and the real strength of our country in the shifting sands of power relations.
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Getting into the Inner Circle

One of the younger engineers in Naval Reactors came in to see me. He had been looking back over his career and trying to peer into the fog of the future, and he had a serious question. “How do you get into the Inner Circle? You know, whenever there’s something really important to go over, a policy matter to discuss, or whatever, there’s a certain small group of people Rick asks to come in and talk about it. You’re one of that group; I’m not. And I’m convinced I never will be, but I’m not sure why. What do I have to do to get into that select group?”
I looked at him carefully, thinking of several possible approaches to an answer. Then I said, “You know the answer to that, don’t you? You don’t really need to hear it from me. Right?”
The young man was a little taken aback. He thought a minute and then said slowly, “Yeah, I suppose I do. You guys are here sometimes when I’m someplace else. Maybe on a Scout picnic, or with a church group. Is that it?”
“It’s not so much a question of total hours worked. It’s just a matter of priorities. You’re not willing to pay the price. I’m not saying that’s good or bad. We all make a choice, and we live with the consequences. After it’s all over, may be we can compare notes in that Great Conference Room Up Yonder, and maybe then we can decide who made the better choice.”
“But there are guys here who put in even longer hours than you do, and they’re not in. So, working hard is not the whole story.”
“That’s true. It’s a lot of things, most of which you’ve got. But you haven’t made the full commitment, and I don’t think you will.”
“I guess you’re right. There are some things I’m not willing to push aside for the program.”
“Hey, I’ve seen guys starting to go off on a trip when they should have been home with a sick wife, and Rick insisted that they go home. It’s not just blind allegiance. It’s . . . well, look around and decide for yourself.”
“I know what you mean, I guess. Anyway, thanks for the talk.”

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Of course, the professional person’s insistence that he cannot accept lay control over the methods he uses to perform his tasks cannot be twisted into an excuse for incompetence or for blunder. . . [A]patient’s relatives obviously cannot be permitted to lean over the surgeon’s shoulder and direct where and how he is to make his incision. He must be completely independent of lay direction in the performance of the operation. However, he will most certainly be judged by the results of the operation. If too many of his patients die, the public ill render judgement on the surgeon and he will soon have much spare time on his hands.
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No management system can substitute for hard work. A manager who does not work hard or devote extra effort cannot expect his people to do so. He must set the example. The manager may not be the smartest or most knowledgeable person, but if he dedicates himself to the job and devotes the required effort, his people will follow his lead.
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Anti-intellectualism has long been our besetting sin. With us, hostility to superior intelligence masquerades as belief in the equality of man and puts forth the false claim that it is undemocratic to recognize and nurture superior intelligence.
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As subordinates develop, work should be constantly added so that no one can finish his job. This serves as a prod and a challenge. It brings out their capabilities and frees the manager to assume added responsibilities. As members of the organizations become capable of assuming new and more difficult duties, they develop pride in doing the job well. This attitude soon permeates the entire organization.
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Attention to detail does not require a manager to do everything himself. No one can work more than twenty-four hours each day. Therefore, to multiply his efforts, he must create an environment where his subordinates can work to their maximum ability. Some management experts advocate strict limits to the number of people reporting to a common superior—generally five to seven. But if one has capable people who require but a few moments of his time during the day, there is no reason to set such arbitrary constraints. Some forty key people report frequently and directly to me. This enables me to keep up with what is going on and makes it possible for them to get fast action. The latter aspect is particularly important. Capable people will not work for long where they cannot get prompt decisions and actions from their superior.
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How Do You Run a Business?
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We both agreed with him, and we sat around a while, feeling very noble. We had put principle ahead of profit, and we would find out whether a business can survive doing that. We soon found, and the next twenty-five years confirmed it ,that when the word gets around that you have a high-class outfit, the customers come to you. We discovered that there is a great demand for honesty, and the more we put integrity and professionalism first, the more we prospered. We were surprised to learn this, but we didn’t complain about it. We realized that this principle might not apply to all type of businesses, but we were glad that it apparently applied to ours.
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Panoff kept marveling at the joy of not having an endless stream of “fire drills.” “When I think of the weeks on end I spent putting out fires the Old Man had started because some field guy had failed to report some two-bit problem! He kept doing that sort of thing to keep everybody in a state of panic, to keep them putting ten times as much effort into each item as any reasonable person would. Yeah, it got results, but it was so wasteful of human talent. I get exhausted just remembering it. We may regret not doing it, but I think we can apply the good stuff we learned, without all the emotional excess.”

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Act as if you were going to live forever and cast your plans way ahead. You must feel responsible without time limitations, and the consideration of whether you may or may not be around to see the results should never enter your thoughts.
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It seems to me a clear obligation for all bureaucratic organizations—private as well as public—to do nothing that will diminish individual autonomy. Public bureaucracies need constant watching, but they can be restrained. With private bureaucracies, the obligation cannot be imposed or enforced. But it can be publicly discussed, and public disapproval can be visited on those who violate the obligation. This will not be helpful to the violator’s “image”. . .
Of course, every corporation is free to manage its affairs as it wishes . . . but there is this point to consider: Corporations have long striven to obtain full citizenship rights as “persons” in the sight of the law. They have largely obtained that objective. The courts for all practical purposes treat them as state or federal citizens. Does achievement of citizenship status then not entail on the part of corporations the obligation to assume as well the civic duties of natural citizens? In law, “right and obligation are correlative.”
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Progress—like freedom­—is desired by nearly all men, but not all understand that both come at a cost. Whenever society advances—be it in culture and education or science and technology—there is a rise in the requirements man must meet to function successfully. The price of progress is acceptance of these more exacting standards of performance and relinquishment of familiar habits and conventions rendered obsolete because they no longer meet the new standards. To move but one rung up the ladder of civilization, man must surpass himself. The simple life comes “naturally,” the civilized life compels effort . . . . . that is the never-ending challenge.
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Unpleasant facts are unwelcome and no one builds statues to critics. But today we are not quite as impatient of a critic as the ancient Locrians. These people gave freedom of speech to all citizens. At public meetings anyone could stand up and argue for changes in law or custom, on one condition. A rope was placed around his neck before he began to speak and, if what he said did not meet with public approval, he was forthwith hanged. That, no doubt, prevented disturbing the even tenor of familiar customs and ways of life.
I have encountered some in the Navy who look with nostalgia on this ancient custom.
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To seek out and accept responsibility; to persevere; to be committed to excellence; to be creative and courageous; to be unrelenting in the pursuit of intellectual development; to maintain high standards of ethics and morality; and to bring these basic principles of existence to bear through active participation in life—these are some of my ideas on the goals which must be met to achieve meaning and purpose in life.
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I believe it is the duty of each of us to act as it the fate of the world depended on him. Admittedly, one man by himself cannot do the job. However, one man can make a difference. . . We must live for the future of the human race, and not for our own comfort or success.

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