In my early twenties, I was given control of a massive warship. Let that sink in for a moment.
As an Officer of the Deck in the Navy, I stood watch on destroyers and frigates, responsible for the safe navigation and operation of the entire vessel. Looking back now, the amount of trust placed in me still blows my mind.
But here's something even more interesting: imagine you're a 40-50 year old career naval officer who finally achieves command of your own warship. You've worked your entire life for this moment. And what are two of the biggest threats to your hard-earned command?
- Eighteen-year-old sailors with free time in foreign ports
- Your own need to sleep
That's right. After decades of service and preparation, your career could be derailed by teenagers on shore leave or the basic human requirement for rest. During my Navy years, I witnessed many different leadership approaches to handling these threats, and the contrast was fascinating.
The Tale of Two Leadership Styles
Some captains went with what I call the "lockdown approach." Their strategy was straightforward:
- Restrict shore leave
- Impose early curfews
- Create tight requirements for what could happen without their direct approval
- Demand to be woken with complete information about any situation
Others took what I'd call the "engagement approach," operating from the mindset of: "I cannot do this alone, so I need to get everyone invested in our success."
The results? Illuminating, to say the least.
The strict, controlling approach typically backfired. Young sailors would cram their mischief into daylight hours to beat curfew. And that hypervigilant "wake me with complete information" standard? It led to a near-collision with an oil tanker in the middle of the Atlantic because watch standers were busy gathering "complete information" instead of taking immediate action.
The engagement approach was undeniably riskier. It required trusting young, sometimes immature sailors with significant responsibility. But the captains who created a culture around the simple principle of "Don't Do Stupid Stuff" saw remarkable results.
By integrating younger sailors with more experienced crew members and fostering mutual accountability, these leaders developed crews that looked out for each other both on and off duty. The results spoke for themselves: zero liberty incidents across 30 port visits and a level of teamwork that elevated everyday operations.
The Secret Sauce
The camaraderie that developed in those "engagement approach" environments is something I'm still trying to recreate today. There was a special kind of magic in that culture—where responsibility wasn't feared but embraced, where trust flowed in both directions, and where the simple mantra of "Don't Do Stupid Stuff" somehow translated into a sophisticated system of mutual support and operational excellence.
I've carried these lessons with me long after leaving the Navy. Whether you're managing a team at work, leading a community group, or raising a family, there's profound wisdom in recognizing that you cannot—and should not—try to control everything.
Sometimes the best leadership comes from setting clear principles, demonstrating trust, and creating the conditions where people naturally look out for each other. It's riskier, sure. But in my experience, the rewards—in performance, morale, and genuine human connection—are immeasurably greater.
The next time you're faced with the choice between tightening control or expanding trust, remember those naval captains and their teenage sailors. Sometimes the path that feels most dangerous is actually the safest route home.
