Supreme Commander (31 page)

Do I heckle my subordinates or strengthen and encourage them?

MacArthur looked after his men and let them know how much he valued them—at least when he needed them. He told Eichelberger: “Bob, if you get a bloody nose, I'll give you every man I have.” When Cappy Harada came up with the idea of inviting American baseball players to Japan for a series of exhibition games, he put Harada on the plane to America and told him, “Get it done.” In 1950 America's greatest baseball star came to Japan. The crowds went wild as the great Joe DiMaggio came onto the field, and the man escorting him and basking in the limelight was not MacArthur, it was Harada.

He never threw his subordinates to the wolves to boost his own position. Informed by the president of the Scripps-Howard newspaper chain that so long as he kept “radicals” like labor advisor Theodore Cohen he could not hope to get the newspaper chain's support for the presidency, MacArthur stood his ground and gave his beleaguered employee a big promotion. Such supportive treatment of subordinates applied also to senior Japanese officials. When he had to overturn their draft of a new constitution and have his men redo it, he resisted attempts to call it “a MacArthur constitution” and insisted that the Japanese be given full credit.

Do I use moral courage in getting rid of subordinates who have proven themselves beyond doubt to be unfit?

MacArthur had a problem with his long-standing Bataan chief of staff, Richard Sutherland, because Sutherland was too narrow-minded and inflexible to handle diplomatic duties. When Sutherland committed the double sin of having an affair with a WAC officer and trying to go around his boss and build his own coterie of loyalists, MacArthur fired him on the spot.

Whenever someone was unfit, MacArthur always dealt with him face-to-face. “To take up a painful matter by letter or other communication,” he said, “is not only the rankest cowardice but the ruination of morale.”

Have I done all in my power by encouragement, incentive, and spur to salvage the weak and caring?

From day one, MacArthur made it clear that he was on a humanitarian mission. One of his very first commands was that American troops not consume any of Japan's precious food supplies. He ordered food and medical supplies to be brought into the country, and set up local distribution centers throughout Japan to provide relief and to stamp out the local black markets. It was done quickly, and compares in size only to Herbert Hoover's massive food relief in Belgium and France after World War I.

MacArthur knew that helping the weak and vulnerable required more than just providing handouts and freebies. In supporting the formation of labor unions and women's equal rights, he gave people who could not protect themselves the means to become self-reliant and independent.

Do I know by NAME and CHARACTER a maximum number of subordinates for whom I am responsible? Do I know them intimately?

MacArthur had a phenomenal memory that dazzled his staff. Just as he could read a memo and recite it back an hour later almost word for word, he carried in his head a huge bank of names and other valuable information from many years in the past.

Did MacArthur know people intimately? No. In Japan he adopted a totally different style of management from his days as a general, when he was everywhere, mingling with his troops and running to the scene of gunfire. No longer was he the general who had once said “a commanding officer is best when he has observed the situation himself.” Instead he withdrew into the four walls of his office and ventured outside only for lunch. Observed General Willoughby: MacArthur “knew his authority would be greater if it came from a Jovian distance.” Such distance would create a “deliberate mystique.”

Am I thoroughly familiar with the technique, necessities, objectives, and administration of my job?

That there were no major foul-ups or charges of corruption during his reign is a tribute to his superb ability as an administrator. He may have been remote as a person, but as an administrator he was thoroughly involved and hands-on. None of his SCAPINS were half-baked or had to be recalled because they were poorly conceived.

Like a president of the United States, he knew the most important person in his administration was the chief of staff. In Courtney Whitney, he had a superb one. He divided his organization into sections, appointed top-class officers, and let them run the show. SCAP was a remarkably lean organization. Personal initiative and responsibility took precedence over procedure. “Rules,” said MacArthur, “are mostly made to be broken and are too often for the lazy to hide behind.”

More important than his performance as a manager was his performance as a leader. The two roles are different. The Harvard Business School professor John Kotter defines the difference in succinct fashion: One copes with complexity, and the other—leadership—copes with change. “Most organizations are overmanaged and underled,” he says.

Nobody would say this about MacArthur's SCAP. It was an organization determined to shake up the status quo, rid Japan of feudalism and militarism, and protect the country from its major external threat, the Russians. These were extremely ambitious goals, the kind of goals that call for leadership rather than management.

Do I lose my temper at individuals?

MacArthur was a master of self-control. The same fearlessness he displayed in battle he carried over into his office. When he got word he had been fired by President Truman, he evinced no anger or outrage. No matter how upset he must have been at the callous way it was handled, he did not lash out. Minutes after he had left Tokyo for good, John Foster Dulles' plane passed by, coming from the opposite direction. By telephone in midair, they had a lengthy talk about what needed to be done in Japan. Dulles noted: “I never had greater admiration for a man. Under such provocation, he still uttered not a word of personal bitterness; he considered only the cause of his country. . . . As long as America can produce men of that stature and caliber it will be safe.”

Have I the calmness of voice and manner to inspire confidence, or am I inclined to irascibility and excitability?

In keeping with the above tenet about self-control, MacArthur was a master of serenity—a quality rarely mentioned in books on leadership. MacArthur possessed what Voltaire praised in Marlborough: “that calm courage in the midst of tumult, that serenity of soul in danger, which is the greatest gift of nature for command.”

He never lost his temper. He radiated calm and self-assurance throughout his tenure. According to John J. McCloy: “He was most impressive as he talked about the future and the forces that were playing around the Orient with which he was quite familiar. He was a man of tremendous discernment. . . . He was a thoughtful man, he was not a poseur.”

Am I inclined to be nice to my superiors and mean to my subordinates?

Here the evidence is mixed. MacArthur was not a butt-kisser who toadied to the powers that be in Washington. He followed his own drummer, and got away it by being extremely charming with visitors from Washington. He was a master at seeming to agree with people when in fact he didn't. People could get frustrated with MacArthur, but it was hard to get angry at him.

Asked by his military secretary Faubion Bowers how he managed to make such a powerful impression on people who came to see him, he said: “I just give 'em a shot of truth. They're so unused to it, it knocks 'em for a loop.”

There's a wonderful story about MacArthur in World War I that showed his compassion toward subordinates. Brig. Gen. Douglas MacArthur was in the trenches just before dawn; he took the Distinguished Service Cross ribbon from his own tunic and pinned it to the chest of a young major about to lead his battalion into battle, explaining that he knew the major would do heroic deeds that day.

Such displays of personal concern can spur followers to excel. MacArthur treated his subordinates decently; he never bullied or browbeat them. He had his personality differences with Eisenhower, his long-standing aide in the Philippines, but never let that interfere with his professional judgment. In a fitness report on Eisenhower, he wrote: “This is the best officer in the Army. When the next war comes, he should go right to the top.”

With men his equal, however, MacArthur could be tough, even mean. He went after generals who beat him and demanded revenge. Instead of treating Yamashita and Homma like honorable warriors, he made sure the U.S. Military Tribunal sent them to the gallows. One of his closest colleagues was Robert Eichelberger, who had won the pivotal battle at Buna and who he insisted be the first to greet him at Atsugi. The two men had known each other since 1911. When Eichelberger emerged from the jungle after winning Buna, MacArthur was there to greet him—with a chocolate milk shake. Their relationship cooled in 1946, when Eichelberger expressed his wish to leave and go work in Washington for Eisenhower and hopefully succeed him as army chief of staff. MacArthur blocked the move, and when Eichelberger left Japan two years later, MacArthur gave him only a perfunctory send-off.

Do I think more of POSITION than JOB?

Twice he turned down invitations from Truman to appear in Washington as a hero, with all the publicity and visibility it would have generated. He was absolutely right: The situation in Tokyo was critical; this was not a time to run off and play crowd-pleaser. He couldn't even be bothered to pick up a Harvard honorary degree.

Other than president, there was no job big enough for a man of his ambition and talents. He knew his post in Japan was a last stop in his career, with no opportunity for promotion. Yet he took the job seriously, and put in hours that would have exhausted younger men.

 

MACARTHUR MADE EIGHT
bold moves when he went against or vastly exceeded Washington's wishes, any one of which could have seriously jeopardized his tenure. They were:

•  recommending an immediate, major reduction of troops

•  initiating a massive food relief program

•  rejecting repatriation demands

•  pushing for Article 9

•  blackballing the Japanese version of the new constitution

•  giving free license to Communist agitators in labor unions

•  vetoing Dulles's proposal for a 300,000-man police force

•  launching the surprise amphibious attack at Inchon

In every single one of them MacArthur was right, and Washington was wrong.

He had “the gift of command,” said William Randolph Hearst. The components of this gift were mastery of sound policy, sensitivity to the local culture, and personal traits of flexibility, persuasiveness, and idealism.

Sound Policy

AS EVERY CEO
will agree, more important than “strategy” (goals and means) is “policy” (purpose and rationale). MacArthur's job was to develop permanent peace and democracy in Japan. Everything he did was directed toward this mission. When superiors in Washington wanted him to pursue specific Cold War objectives (preserve the
zaibatsu
, build up the Japanese military), he did so only with the greatest reluctance. Such objectives were not consistent with his mission.

He undertook bold new measures—labor unions and women's rights—that were disruptive but consistent with his mission. In promoting prodemocracy measures even more liberal than current practices in the United States, he was a man ahead of his time. He was a master of “soft power” in communicating America's culture, political ideals, and aspirations.

Walter Lippmann once said that effective leadership consists not of giving people what they want, but of giving them what they will learn to want. MacArthur was very much an agent of change, attempting to push Japan toward a new future. He ran a highly disciplined, well-behaved organization. His troops, on the whole, behaved superbly and became popular ambassadors for America and its values.

He was not reckless or impulsive. He took a tremendous risk at Atsugi, but it was a gamble based on a careful reading of the Japanese mood and situation. It was a risk worth taking because the rewards would be so extraordinarily high. Almost everything he did was according to plan. He announced eleven specific objectives to his fellow generals on the Okinawa-to-Atsugi flight—and he accomplished them all.

Sensitivity to the Local Culture

FROM THE MOMENT
he landed at Atsugi not wearing a firearm, he let the Japanese people know he trusted them. They were a beaten people; he would not humiliate them by showing up with a lot of guns. He never strutted around in public wearing all his medals, reminding them he was a victorious general. He always dressed informally, like he did in his first meeting with Hirohito.

He jumped immediately to meet their desperate need for food. He preserved the emperor, even if he had to perform considerable gymnastics to do so. He let almost all Japanese government employees keep their jobs, and motivated them by giving them important tasks to do, under American guidance and supervision. He reduced American troop levels (making Japan happy, Washington unhappy). He read every single letter sent to him by the Japanese people, and went so far as to meet with a man who tried to assassinate him, so as to glean deeper insight into Japanese sensibilities, even perverted ones. He quashed public exposure of the atrocities of Unit 731, not only to keep the biological research away from the Russians but also to avoid damaging Japan's international image.

Seeing how the Japanese were having trouble developing a new constitution, he ordered his staff to jump in and do it in one week—no messing around. He never insulted the Japanese or put them down. He did not blow up and insist it was his way or no way. He entertained modifications, and when the final version finally came out he gave the Japanese full credit. According to Shigeru Yoshida:

General MacArthur's headquarters did insist, with considerable vigor, on the speedy completion of the task and made certain demands in regard to the contents of the draft. But during our subsequent negotiations with GHQ there was nothing that could properly be termed coercive or overbearing in the attitude of the Occupation authorities towards us. They listened carefully . . . in many cases accepted our proposals.