|
Setting limits of human conduct
By K.S.
Bajwa
SCIENCE and technology have
revolutionised warfare. Vast resources of energy are at
the command of belligerent people. The precision and
remoteness with which destructive potential can be
unleashed seems to obscure the human factor. Outwardly,
battles appear to acquire a push-button-science-thriller
aspect. But analysis of the most sophisticated weapon
system inevitably leads to the human core that conceived
and created it; services it; decides when, where and how
to use it and finally pulls the trigger. Admittedly
computer programming can relieve human beings of a
sizeable portion of the drudgery, but it can never
replace the essence of a human being-the capacity to
think, choose, decide and act no matter what the
situation or the combination of circumstances. Human
emotions and their interaction with other individuals and
groups is and will remain central to the theme of
soldiering. The point of steel gathers its awesome
momentum when the many minds and sinews that are behind
it, act in perfect unison. This kind of human dynamism
needs motivation and productive man-leader equations.
What makes these relationships develop, grow and endure?
A shared noble objective? Pulls of glory and tradition?
Mutual benefits? All play their part, but more than
anything it is mutual awareness and appreciation; an
invovlement of one with the other, especially of the
leader, beyond the cocoon of self-interest and mutual
faith and confidence. And where does discipline come in?
Of late, there has been much criticism of its rigours.
Essentially, it consists of setting limits to individual
and collective conduct and defining channels of
endeavour, with a view to bend diverse minds and energies
to a common purpose. The need for it is as valid in life
in general as it is in the armed forces. It is only when
its rationale to the point of purpose is obscured that it
acquires an odium.
The experiences of a major, who joined an entirely new
unit after a spell on the staff, were significant. Though
he was the senior most major, he requested and obtained
the command of a battery in addition to being the
second-in-command of the mountain regiment. His battery
was composed of Dogras, while the other three batteries
were Sikhs. He immediately sensed that his rather docile
Dogras were over shadowed by the aggressive presence of
the Sikhs. Within the first few days and before he had
established any meaningful communication with his troops
his battery was ordered to carry out joint training with
a Sikh battalion well known for its cult of physical
toughness. A long days march was necessary to
rendezvous with the Sikh battalion.
Early on a hot and sultry day, he marched out at the head
of his battery column. Provided with chargers (a horse
provided to an officer to ride is called a charger), he
and his officers chose to march with the mule columns.
Even before reaching half way he knew that all was not
well with his command. The column had become ragged. The
men were straggling and the animals fractious. After he
reached his camp site at mid-afternoon, he marched back
to gather in the stragglers. He came in with the last man
and found exhaustion in step with chaos. The battery was
ordered to parade and the major marched out with them for
half a kilometer and then back to the camp. On return the
animals were ministered to; weapons and equipment
checked, cleaned and stored for the night; men inspected
for foot care and the camp organised for an over-night
stay.
After a little rest, the battery was called together and
the days performance was reviewed. The major spoke
to them of a sense of purpose, duty and pride of
achievement. He reminded them of the glorious traditions
of the Dogras. The next day there were no drop outs. In
the exercise, the mountain gunners carrying cumbersome
radio sets and secondry batteries were like shadows with
the infantrymen carrying out outflanking manoeuvres in
the hills and forests. At the end they were called
our battery by the tough Sikhs. Marching back
to the barracks, they had a bounce to their stride and a
new lift to their shoulders. Back in the unit lines, the
major, himself a Sikh, went to the mandir on Sunday
mornings rather than to the gurdwara. He organised a
thrust for professional expertise in every concievable
manner. Tasks, targets and achievements slowly gathered a
momentum of success and pride. The Dogras could look the
Sikhs in the eye and keep their pace, if not steal the
show.
All this came slowly and unobstrusively. In the meantime,
the Sikh batteries were in no better shape. The regiment
had come unstuck under the overly kind commanding
officers, who had proceeded on leave. A murder, assaults
and affrays, disobedience of orders and a whole gang
over-staying leave were the visable consequences. The
major was deeply mortified when the divisional commander
pointed out the dubious distinction of the worst
disciplined regiment at a unit commanders conference. He
took careful stock and found that the officers had
strayed away from genuine involvement with their commands
and the limits of conduct for the men had been obscured.
He launched a rescue and reconstruction operation with
single minded purpose. He punished all infractions
ruthlessly. A hard training regimen was introduced.
Officers started spending more time with their men;
training with them, playing games and knowing them
better. While the certainity that breaches of discipline
will be punished took hold, focus was on prevention of
infringements. For instance, letters were written to men
on leave, advising them to commence their return journeys
by specific dates, so that they could rejoin in time.
Toning up the administration improved living conditions.
Hardships were shared. Where the improvised barracks that
leaked in the incessant rains, could not be repaired, the
officers led by the major would don rain-coats, move
around in the downpour helping troops become more
comfortable while they themselves became visibly soaked.
Individual attention was started to achieve better
professional competence and the connected career
advancement. Grievances and requests were attended to
promptly. The officers and men soon rediscovered their
mutual involvement and professional focus. In less than
two months the regiment had turned the corner. That the
men, like children, derived a reassuring warmth of care
when limits were set to their conduct and enforced
impartially, was obvious when an offender detected by the
major and arraigned before a court-martial, asked for him
as the friend during his trial. Here too, as so often
before it, a firmness of military purpose and the warmth
of human care had found a reinforcing convergence.
One of the very important functions of executive leaders
at all levels of an organisation is to supervise their
subordinates so that they carry out the functions
assigned to them and act to achieve organisational
objectives. Equally important is to ensure that the
subordinate act within the charter of the organisation
and laws specific to the organisation as well as those of
the land. Wherever senior executives overlook these
functions, whether by design or by omission, the
organisation is liable to lose its cohesion and dynamism.
This vital responsibility, inherent to executive
leadership, applies to all spheres of organisational
activity, whether in the Army or government or industry
or public life. Failures can have serious repercussions
whether it be the tightly structured Army or the more
amorphous life of the people. Genuine involvement with
those you lead is necessary. Equally vital is to set
moral and material limits to conduct and enforce these
strictly and impartially.
|