The third proviso for leadership, related to the second, is the ability to place your trusted followers about you skillfully, forming a protective wall around yourself. No candidate for top leadership can hold the gate for promotion open equally to all his followers. He must select certain supporters who have ability and will provide him with faithful service, and attach their fortunes to his own cause. This means, of course, that he must form his own faction. All others who are candidates for top leadership are also forming and nourishing their own factions.
The main leader controls the entire factional group through the leaders of various subgroups. These subgroup leaders are the "wall" or "moat" of the main leader, and the workers are stones to be used in building the wall or moat. The strength or weakness of the main leader is determined by the positioning of these individual "stones" in his "castle wall." The subgroup leaders all give their support to the main leaders and have a considerable voice in matters of concern to the organization. Since these subgroup leaders must also represent the demands and rights of the group members they lead, conflicts of interest can sometimes result. The main leader must have the skill to maintain good relationships with the various subgroup leaders. If he fails, the wall he has built will come tumbling down.
Occasionally, a "dictatorial-type" leader appears from within the group. Since he is the dominant representative of his faction, it would seem that the balance of power in the group has swung radically to his favor. But in fact, he too must spend a considerable amount of time and energy maintaining good relations with the group. The emotional framework on which human relationships are built disintegrates easily if it is not constantly attended to. The disintegration of relationships ultimately results in the disintegration of the power bloc as well.
In my observation, leaders in certain foreign nations prefer not to have capable men as their sub-leaders. This is not simply a fear of criticism, but a more primal fear of being stabbed in the back. Such leaders tend to place yes-men around them as direct subordinates and try to carry out their policies on their own, using these yes-men only as decorative defense. But as a rule, yes-men lack ability, and the leader has to do everything himself. In Japan, the opposite is often true: the subordinates are exhausted protecting the boss.
The fourth proviso of a Japanese leader is the skill to instruct subordinates without putting the instructions into words. In other words, he should have the mysterious power to convey his instructions through voiceless communication.
I learned about one leader who had this quality from a short memoir which appeared in the Nihon Keizai Shimbun (October 23, 1980). It was the summer of 1941. The Japanese garrison forces had made peaceful inroads into French Indochina (present Vietnam). The troop leader, a second lieutenant, and his 200 soldiers were stationed at Hanoi Airport. The soldiers were permitted to leave the camp only during the daytime, but to their disappointment all the shops downtown were closed in the day because of the burning heat. Since the shops were open only in the evening, the soldiers could enjoy nothing. Then the lieutenant, in sympathy with his men, issued a special, arbitrary order at his own risk permitting the soldiers to go out in the evening. Leaping with joy, the soldiers rushed into the amusement district. There they saw one foreign officer treating a native man cruelly. They became enraged at the officer's inhumane act and immediately beat him up. The incident became a big issue between the Japanese and the foreign troops, and Major Kato, commander of the Japanese garrison, had to deal with the problem.
Later, Major Kato summoned the lieutenant to his room. The lieutenant stood before the major's desk, anticipating thunder and severe punishment, but the major simply glanced at the lieutenant and went on reading his official documents. He never once looked up at the lieutenant, acting as if he had completely forgotten the man. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, nearly thirty minutes passed. The lieutenant remained at attention during all this time. Then Major Kato abruptly looked up at the lieutenant and asked in a dignified voice:
- "Do you know why you are summoned here?"
- "Yes, sir!"
Kato looked damned hard into the lieutenant's face. After a brief pause, he said,
- "All right, go back!"
- "Yes, sir!" The lieutenant returned.
Years later, the lieutenant recalled that dreadful day and described it in his memoir. "I was so shocked at the time," he wrote, "it was like my heart had been stung by a needle."
There was no actual instruction from Major Kato. Nothing at all. Yet the lieutenant was thoroughly instructed and corrected. (Major Kato was later killed in an air battle while leading the famous Kato Falcon Fighters.)
Here is another illustration of wordless instruction. A certain section chief was transferred to a smaller section in a Japanese company. The move was known to everybody as a demotion. He was extremely discoursed by this personnel action and decided to make an appeal to the director, whom he knew very well.
When he visited the director's house, he was ushered into the drawing room, where he was served a cup of Japanese green tea. Left alone with the tea, he waited and waited, but the director did not appear. As he waited, he grew impatient and began to glance about the room. He turned his eyes to the scroll hanging in the alcove. It was a beautiful calligraphy expressing "endurance." He felt at that moment as if the word picture was gazing down at him. It was like an electric shock. He was suddenly awakened by the meaning of the scroll.
When the director came into the room, the man's mind had already been made up. He made no appeal. They exchanged a few words on general matters. He felt refreshed when he left the director's house. After this visit, all his time, energy, and thoughts were redirected to his new job in the smaller section.
This is how a Japanese leader teaches others without saying a word.
We can sum up these qualities into one neat phrase: "delegation of authority." A true leader, rather than expressing his own wishes, delegates his power, thereby giving his subordinates a sense of importance. The Japanese have established a modern bureaucratic society, but the old words of the feudal lord to his vassals still apply: "Yoki ni hakarae" ("Do as you see fit"). The Japanese organization depends on this spirit of delegation for its success.
Nonetheless, this sort of leadership can be very difficult to administer. Only a person who combines the charismatic qualities admired in the Orient and the pragmatism demanded in the Occident can succeed. The members of a group, though superficially suppressing their personalities, are always seeking satisfaction of their self-interests. Self-satisfaction in a vertical society is achieved by coming closer to power and authority, or attaining just a bit more power and authority than one's position deserves. From below, authority is the goal. From above, it is the source of motivation. A successful leader is one who motivates others effectively.