Conversations in Management

George Washington
	Gentlemen, you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in the service of my country.

On the Ides of March in 1783, General Washington won the greatest victory of his military career. It was two years after his defeat of Cornwallis at Yorktown and two months before the final peace treaty with Britain would be signed. The danger this time came not from the Redcoats, but from a conspiracy involving his second in command, Major General Horatio Gates and ardent congressional nationalists led by Alexander Hamilton. The aim was nothing short of a coup-d’état and military control of the country.

The conspirators were hoping to take advantage of the growing discontent among both enlisted men and officers in the Continental Army. By 1783, enlisted soldiers had gone without pay for over a year—many for over two years. Officers had been subsisting on what private funds they had available and most had been driven deeply into debt. With peace imminent, they realized that their leverage to obtain both back pay and promised pensions from an increasingly reluctant Congress was fading. For their part, Congress had no taxing authority and no real means of paying their war debts. Hamilton’s vision of a strong federal government with tax authority would resolve the crisis, but the idea was not widely supported. To advance his position, Hamilton decided to play a dangerous game. He would secretly promote a mutiny in the even more secret belief that Washington would suppress it. He thought that a real threat of mutiny would frighten Congress to his point of view.

On the evening of March 15, Gates (a willing dupe) chaired a meeting of the Army’s field grade officers. The intent was to draft a resolution advising Congress that unless back pay and pensions were immediately paid, the Army would march and take by force what was owed. The mood was ugly. Suddenly, Washington entered the room and asked to address the officers. Gates assented and Washington delivered a short speech urging moderate measures and longer forbearance. He then pulled a letter from his pocket. It was from representatives in Congress who pledged to find a way to honor their debt to the soldiers. Washington unfolded the letter and then paused. The room stirred as everyone wondered why Washington was waiting. He then apologized to the group as he took his spectacles from his pocket and put them on. He began to read, but was overcome by emotion and could not continue. He folded the letter, put his glasses back in his pocket and left the room.

The mood was broken. Many wept. A resolution stating support for General Washington and Congress was swiftly passed. A coup had been averted by the force of Washington’s personality alone. In the end, the officers were unable to turn against their revered leader. He had shared every deprivation and hardship. He led the most daring raids and rode first into battle. He had saved the army time and again when all seemed lost. Mutiny against congress was possible but not at the cost of treachery to their leader.

Sooner or later every leader faces a moment of truth when they have to rely solely on the goodwill of those they lead. In that moment their character is judged and the extent to which they’ve communicated their vision and forged bonds of mutual respect is weighed. If they’ve been true to themselves and to their people, they’ll succeed. If they haven’t, they won’t. The ides of March might be a good time to start preparing for our own moment.

                                                                                                                        —Ebert

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