Articles, Stories, and Speeches of Interest: 


Featured here are articles relating to the universal concept of "band of brothers."  We will feature predominantly stories and articles about 'men in arms' (war stories and current news) but we are expanding to include the larger subject area of Fathers, Sons, and Brothers...and the issues that concern them.  This section  is a cooperative effort and needs your help. If you or someone you know have an article or story you would like published here,  we encourage you to submit them (to do so,  click the 'Comments' button in the top navigation bar).  

How to Make a New Band of Brothers to win in GWOT or Hi-Tech War: the Quad Model, by Mark Hagerott, CAPT USN,

            See below for historical case study and view Quad-OTIS model©hagerott2009

 

 

 

                            Developing Leaders in Complex Technical Organizations:

An Historically based model for Personnel Managers

(Quadrant Model for Leader Development)©

 

 

"Yet in reality the remedy is simple and obvious.  All that is needed is to make the line officer and the engineer the same man, by throwing both corps into one."

Theodore Roosevelt, Under Secretary of the Navy, 9 December 1897 [1]

 

“…strict attention paid to training the human mind in specialties is the only path that leads to higher attainment.”[2]   

Congressman Low, NY, during debate over naval officer reforms, 1899

 

"But we are told the naval officer to-day is a 'fighting engineer", and this mockery of truth has been accepted by the profession." 

Stephen B. Luce, RADM, USN (retired), 1911[3]

 

 

 

*

 Summary

Technological and social change holds manifold implications for human resource (HR) systems.  This essay will introduce a tool for understanding the tradeoffs and challenges involved in the process of leader development, especially in large complex organizations.  To illustrate the workings of this model, the development of the professional naval officer corps will be examined.   It will be argued that the crux of the problem faced by leader development systems today is an old one, almost five hundred years old, at the least.  Personnel managers have struggled for centuries to groom and prepare new generations of leaders to lead the complex organizations of their day.  In this struggle there came to exist a tension between the need for specialized knowledge and integrated knowledge on the one hand, and between technical and operational knowledge on the other.   The dual tension created a complex dynamic in leader development systems.  A model which I call Quad-OTIS (Quadrant Leadership: Operational-Technical-Integrative-Specialized)  can help personnel managers display graphically, in a quadrant structure, the tensions and tradeoffs they confront as they build their new generation of specialists and senior leaders necessary to run modern organizations. 

            What is Quad-OTIS, hereafter referred to as the 'Quad model'?   The Quad model is a tool to help managers prioritize resources and plan human resource development strategies.  As environmental, social, and technological factors change around an organization, it is incumbent on personnel managers to continuously reassess and rebalance the leader development system to ensure it is meeting the needs of the organization.  Leaders often think of rebalancing in binary terms: "either I can cultivate more specialized skilled personnel, or I can develop a more generalist or integrative leader."  This tradeoff/challenge is depicted in Figure 1. 

            At the same time personnel managers are confronted with and often grapple with a second dynamic: the need for personnel with technical knowledge, and the need for personnel especially adept at less technical, more operational responsibilities.  This tradeoff/challenge is represented in Figure 2. 

            The Quad Model allows a manager to synthesize the problem-solving dilemmas, and move from solving two problems in isolation and seek to solve both together.  The Quad Model combines the two spectrums to produce a quadrant structure where the interdependences and tradeoffs become more intuitively evident. This is accomplished by turning Figure 2 vertical which yields a transitional Figure 3, and then superimposing one spectrum over the other, thus creating the  Quad Model, Figure 4.  Starting at "12 o'clock high" is the 'operational' end of the spectrum, at six o'clock is the 'technical end'.  At three o'clock is the 'integrative' end, and at nine o'clock is the 'specialized' end of the spectrum. Taken together this yields an easily understood quadrant structure of leader-types, Figure 5. 

 

Figure 1: Degree of Specialization or Integration

 

 

 

Figure 2:  Degree of Technical Content

 

 

Figure 3:  Tilt Figure 2 vertical to gain a new perspective

 

Figure 4:  Quadrant Leadership Model:  Operational-Technical, Integrated-Specialized

 

 

 

 

Figure 5:  Knowledge Areas by Quadrants: Technical Specialist, Operations Specialist, Technical Integrator, Integrative Operator

 

 

 

 

How it Works: an Historical Illustration

In modern complex organizations it is sometimes difficult to fully appreciate the tradeoffs and challenges of a particular HR strategy.  That is where history can be helpful.  This same problem of tradeoffs and challenges was confronted centuries ago, but while the problems were fundamentally the same, the patterns were not obscured as they are today by an avalanche of data and numbers which have become commonly available with computerized and networked databases.

Beginning around the time of the Renaissance and the Scientific Revolution, senior HR leaders (the  kings and queens and their advisors) found it necessary that their military leaders be able to employ increasingly complex technological systems over larger and more complex geographical and social domains.   To be able to develop new military technologies, technical specialists were sometimes needed.  To employ technologies in the field, brave and tactically adaptive 'operators' were in demand.  As fleets and navies grew larger and more complex, and there arose a nascent 'systems of systems', there was an increased need for integrators, officers who 'bring it all together', both on the sea and in the dock yards.  While this need became evident fairly early on, the harder question was how to develop such capabilities in the military-naval leaders of the day. 

            In those early days, navies were the most hi-tech and complex organizations on the planet, and not surprisingly the English became cutting edge innovators in the realm of maritime leader development. The English, by deliberate analysis or chance, realized there was a tradeoff or tension between 'specialized knowledge' and broader, more general-integrated knowledge.  This tension was depicted on the Quad Model, Figure 5.  The persons who fought and sailed were located in the left two quadrants, that occupied by 'specialists'. In the sea service, the earliest form of command was divided among specialists:  the specialist 'land warrior' came aboard ship to fight with pike and sword, and the more technical specialist 'tarpaulin'sailor, or 'Jack Tar', sailed and navigated the technically complex system known as the ship, or galleon. The 'tarpaulin' did not consider himself to be responsible for naval-military tactical decision, only for technical ship duties of ship navigation and transport of the 'warriors'.  The English eventually found this arrangement to be unsatisfactory. But how did they change the model, and how was this important?  And, more importantly for today, how did later generations of personnel managers reconcile the need for specialists and integrators in their organizations, and what strategies did they adopt that remain relevant today?

 

 

 

 

Figure 6:  English Naval Reforms Create the Integrative Officer: the Midshipman

 

 

 

 

 

 

How Navy's Developed Quadrant Leaders? How Navy's moved models between and across Quadrants?

 

 

The naval commander is particularly sensitive to the effects of changing technology, in no small part due to the nature of the problem of command.  The senior officers who occupy the upper levels of the command structure are faced by issues that are fundamentally different than those addressed by specialists.   The senior operational commander, unlike the specialist, must come to possess a capacity to integrate and synthesize, to make judgments about the larger whole.[4]   Specialized education provides a commander with awareness in a narrow field, but broadening education is the tool that enhances the commander’s capacity for synthesis in judgment.  A perennial problem, then, is to strike the balance between specialized education and training and more broadening and general education that provides the foundation for the synthesis and judgment of the whole, to include the non-technical and human dimension of war.  During centuries of technological change, navies have made and remade their commanders using a combination of strategies and adjustments, a mix that was contingent upon unique circumstances of the time. [5]

Navies did not adopt any one personnel strategy in response to technological change.  The idiosyncratic responses, however, appear to align with one of three general types of responses.  Navies convey new technical knowledge to the commander via a strategy of specialization, merger, or some combination of strategies, to include what might be described as educational accommodations.  In the first strategy, specialization, an organization subdivided its knowledge-holders to create around the new technology a new group of specialists who advised but did not necessarily rise to command.  In the second strategy, merger, the organization merged two or more groups of knowledge holders and created a new commander whose identity was a synthesis of formerly independent groups.  The command implications of merger were less clear-cut than a strategy of specialization and could include a shifting balance of power between the groups that harbored old loyalties.  Lastly, there is a mixed strategy of accommodation and adjustment that did not subdivide officers along specialist lines nor try to effect an outright merger.  A strategy of accommodation consisted of training, education, assignment, and promotion innovations that combined to inculcate into the existing pool of commanders the desired level of understanding of the new technological innovation. Though this last strategy may exhibit fewer outward manifestations—no dramatic mergers to be deliberated by the King, Parliament, or Congress, no independent specialist groups emerge to challenge older groups—the effect on the thinking and values of the commander could be profound in the long run. 

In the early modern period (circa 1500s), when faced with increased technical innovation and rising complexity, navies spawned multiple specialties, to include pursers (finance), surgeons (medicine), and chaplains.   In questions of command, however, the benefits of specialization were less clear, and European navies adopted different policies with drastically different results.  Europe of the 16th century witnessed perhaps the most profound challenge to long-held more specialist notions of command.  The Spanish fleet continued to adhere to the older pattern of specialization:  the mariner-seaman piloted the ship, and the warrior-commander fought from the ship.  The English, however, adopted a new approach: a strategy of merger of the two specialties of mariner and warrior, ultimately in the person of a ‘midshipman’.  The ‘midshipman’ learned both practical seamanship and practical martial arts and was groomed to command both ship and the warriors. (See Figure 6)  The innovation of the merged commander proved a success and contributed to the English victory in 1588 over the Spanish Armada (though other scholars date the transition later in the 18th century and believe it to have been somewhat more complex than described here).[6]   Regardless, the merger (or amalgamation) of seaman and warrior affected more than the outcome of Anglo-Spanish naval battles.  The English strategy of merger became an important case that was studied by American naval reformers in the late 19th century. 

Two hundred years after the innovation of the midshipman, naval command was confronted with a new challenge: industrialization and steam.  With industrialization came increased organizational complexity.  To cope with increased complexity, military organizations of most western nations adopted a strategy of greater specialization: the commander came to rely on a growing group of officer specialists.[7]  The US Navy followed this general pattern and adopted a strategy of specialization, giving rise to two corps of officers: the operational and tactical 'line' and the technical specialists of the 'engineering corps'.  (see Figure 7)  But the decision to confine the two sets of leaders to their respective quadrants was not problem free, and resulted in considerable tension.

 

Figure 7:  Navy 19th Century Model: the Operational "Line" and the Technical "Engineer"

 

 

 

 

The rise of engineers prompted disputes with the 'line' regarding multiple problems, to include questions of ship design, bureaucratic organizational structures, finances, wardroom privilege, to name but a few. [8]  But the most vexing problem area was over the question of command: what would be the identity of the officer who would command, who would lead in battle?   Masland and Radway observed:  "The rise of these specialists produced a crisis over command at sea.  By sending his crew aloft, the captain had once controlled the movement of his vessel and confirmed his authority over his men...the rise of a separate corps of officers who alone understood its mysteries, by destroying this unity of knowledge, threatened to destroy unity of command…."[9]   The officer corps would struggle for a century over the questions of how much should a commander trust to his engineers and how much did the commander himself need to study and understand of the new engineering.

            Alfred Thayer Mahan, perhaps best known as a naval strategist, devoted considerable attention to the implications fossil fuel machines might pose for 'line' officer education and development.  Mahan feared a resurgent form of 'technicism' in the personae of coal-dusted mechanics and their machines, which were then proliferating across America and the sea service.   A particular danger to the profession, Mahan warned in an 1879 essay, was if the Navy attempted to blur the lines between 'line' officers and the engineers.[10] 

Mahan argued that naval officer education must be primarily education in the profession of war, a profession he interpreted to be centered on combat operations, not upon the technicalities of machines.  Given his operational bias, it was not surprising that Mahan advocated that technical specialists, especially steam engineers, remain subordinate to the operationally-minded ‘line’ officer.  Mahan feared an excessive focus on the machines and things mechanical would narrow an officer: “The necessarily materialistic character of mechanical science tends rather to narrowness….”[11]   An overly mechanistic and scientific approach to command, he argued, eroded the human and moral aspects of leadership and tended “to promote caution unduly; to substitute calculation for judgment; to create trust in formulas rather than in one’s self.” [12]  Mahan’s arguments about the limits of technology, especially the steam engine, exerted a powerful influence on the Navy.[13]  His arguments were, however, not uncontested. Mahan's writings provoked spirited rebuttals by leaders of the engineer corps who saw their type of officer, the engineer, to be ascendant in the Navy and in war.

            The most outspoken opponents of Mahan were the Engineers in Chief, the senior engineers in the navy, who fiercely promoted their technology and the engineers. Charles Loring, Engineer in Chief of the Navy, and later President of the American Society of Naval Engineers, levied blistering personal attacks on Mahan and those like him who did not embrace what he saw as the deterministic role of technology.  In considering Mahan and others like him, Loring in the President’s Annual Address to the American Society of Mechanical Engineers in 1892 wrote that they failed to appreciate the decisive role of engineering.  Loring claimed that they had “... but scantily drawn attention to the immense influence upon modern history by the steam engine. They follow in the same well worn ruts giving dubious description of battle, names of monarchs....and the whole array of puppets who seem to push the cart of time, while they are only flies upon its wheels."[14]  Loring, however, retired as Engineer in Chief before the issues of personnel reform came to a head.  His replacement was unlikely and unexpected, one George Melville.

Melville was an outspoken and articulate advocate for the advancement of naval engineers.   Writing an article in 1896, entitled ‘The Engineer in Warfare”, Melville quoted at length a sympathetic European author:  “…there is strife between the deck and the engineer officer.  While the role of the former is growing less every day, that of the latter is constantly increasing in importance.  Everything is engines in the Navy.  We refuse to admit it, but strife does exist, and it is only when compelled and forced that we give the engineer due rank and authority.”[15]  

Activist engineers helped Melville raise the profile of engineers, but they did more: they shifted the overall model of 'line' officer toward the 'technical specialist' quadrant previously occupied by engineering specialists.  As a consequence of their efforts, the 'line' officer would become, by law, as much an engineer as he was a tactician or operator.  The shift in 'line' officer toward a stronger technical and material identity came with the Act of 1899 when politicians adopted a strategy of merger: they merged (or, in the word of the day, amalgamated) the 'line' and the engineers to form a common officer model.  This model decisively linked the navy's concept of operational command with the technical requirements of the engineering profession.

*

 Merging Operational and Technical Expertise into One

The Navy had for almost a century struggled with the implications of the steam engine and the need to reconcile the competing demands of the ‘line’ operators and the engineers.  At the end of the 19th century a particularly ambitious and young Under Secretary of the Navy, Theodore Roosevelt, was looking to make his mark, solved the 'problem' by merging the 'line' and 'engineer' corps into one.    In September 1897 he began a correspondence with a one-time engineer officer and then engineering professor from Harvard, Ira N. Hollis, who had published in the Atlantic Monthly a plan for the amalgamation (merger) of the 'line' and engineering corps.[16]  Roosevelt introduced Hollis to the Secretary of the Navy, John D. Long, and not long after their first meeting, Long authorized Roosevelt to convene what was called the Naval Reorganization Board in November 1897.  Roosevelt promptly invited Hollis to advise the board.[17]  A mere four weeks later, in December 1897, despite the initial objections of senior engineers, including Melville, Roosevelt's board recommended to the Secretary a plan that mirrored in almost every respect Hollis' plan for amalgamation or merger of two, previously distinct types of officers.[18]  The board recommended amalgamation using language very similar to that used by the Harvard professor, arguing that "... every officer on a modern war vessel in reality has to be an engineer whether he wants to or not." [19]   The report dismissed notions that amalgamation might yield negative consequences and argued instead that though for generations it seemed "... very difficult to hit upon the right expedient...Yet in reality the remedy is simple and obvious.  All that is needed is to make the line officer and the engineer the same man, by throwing both corps into one."[20]  The main argument for amalgamation was an historical analogy to the English navy in the 16th century.  The need for amalgamation was more asserted than analyzed or argued.

Some lawmakers on Capitol Hill interpreted the Act of 1899 not as a victory but as a step backward.  In their critique, engineering was an increasingly complex field of knowledge that required specialization.  The amalgamation of engineer and ‘line’ placed excessive knowledge-demands on a single officer, and as a consequence, the merged officer would be both a less effective operational commander and a less knowledgeable engineer.  Congressman Low, NY, a vocal advocate of this view, portrayed merger of 'line' and engineer as a step back because “…strict attention paid to training the human mind in specialties is the only path that leads to higher attainment.”[21]   Though Congressman Low may have been out-voted, in the minds of many officers his arguments were compelling.  Apparently, most professional naval officers who opposed the bill were never persuaded of the wisdom of amalgamation.  Rather, 'line' officers and engineers supported the bill only because it was politically expedient.  In return for naval officers' and naval engineers' support of amalgamation, the politicians promised to ameliorate the unrelated but urgent problem of slow promotions.[22] 

The new law blurred the distinction between officers who would command and those with specialized technical knowledge who had not previously aspired to command as a matter of course. This change in personnel law shifted the identity of the 'line' strongly in the direction of those skills and qualities defined by machines and machine systems.[23]   

 

Figure 8:  The Amalgamation (or Merger) of the "Line" and "Engineers"

 

 

Not long after passage of the bill, however, Secretary Long had second thoughts, and he reconsidered the wisdom of the amalgamation that he, Roosevelt, and Hollis had pushed upon the Navy.  He sounded a cautionary note.  He expressed doubts about the permanence of the merger as a solution to technological and social change that might soon confront the officer corps. Long explained that the merger was a decision made for a specific context, in a specific time.  The personnel law was, he wrote, "…framed to meet special conditions, and so long as those conditions exist it will produce the results intended; but when they (conditions) change, it will require revision.” [24]  Secretary Long was thus unsettled about his decision for merger.[25]

Long’s anxiety sprang from perhaps his intuition that certain major conditions, those upon which the decision for merger had been made, were about to change.  In particular, the gulf separating engineering knowledge and that of operations was about to widen considerably.  The ability to bridge the gulf between engineering and operations, already strained in 1899, would become increasingly problematic as the two fields diverged even more greatly.   At the turn of the century, unbeknownst to many naval and political leaders alike and recognizable now only with historical perspective, there was beginning to emerge a new type of engineer, the scientific engineer, and one who would require increasingly advanced and scientific education.[26]  The engineering profession in this period was increasingly at odds with itself: the old engineering practitioners were threatened by the new, more scientific engineers, and each group struggled to define a new system of selection, training, and socialization of future engineers.[27]  The Navy leadership had made a profound policy decision to merge two specialties at the very moment engineering was itself in a state of professional confusion about what it would mean to be an ‘engineer’ in the future.

*

Operations vs Engineering: Dueling Educational Institutions, 1900 to 1916

 

Some historians have argued that with the Act of 1899 the 'line' officers no longer needed to fear the engineers, since with the merger the 'foe' was vanquished.[28]   But in fact, the professional transformation was incomplete.  The 'threat' of the engineers now took a different form: the engineers through education, assignment and promotion threatened almost like a Trojan Horse to capture the ‘line’ profession from within, and to shift it downward and to the left, into the "technical specialist quadrant" (Figure 5, Figure 9).  The architect of the merger plan, Hollis, who would later become the president of a polytechnic, predicted as much when he wrote: "The line officers fear that the engineers wish to command the ships.   Let the commanding officers become engineers, and let the engineers rule our ships, then all fears will be dispelled, and the Navy will quickly become a unit."[29]   The period from 1900 to 1916 was one of experimentation, uncertainty, and turmoil for the officer corps, a turmoil that was shared by other modern navies grappling with similar issues, though the US Navy was almost alone in its adoption of a strategy of merger. [30]  Secretary Long retired and Roosevelt moved on to the White House, leaving to naval officers the details of the historic merger. 

Educational changes at Annapolis came first on the reform agenda: merger of the engineering and ‘line’ curriculum. In the years preceding amalgamation, the share of the curriculum devoted to engineering and sciences had gradually increased.  In 1889 Commander Sampson, the Superintendent and a one-time physics professor,  established a system of engineering specialization at the academy that allowed midshipman in their fourth year the choice to specialize in either the ‘line’ or in the engineering corps.  With the Personnel Act of 1899 this choice was made moot as the ‘line’ and the engineers were now, by order of the Secretary of the Navy, merged into one.  Accordingly, the curriculum was adjusted to include engineering course work for all midshipmen.[31]  The result was that very quickly the entire student body pursued a course of study that was now two specialties merged together: that of the traditional ‘line’ (focused on operations, to include foreign language, history, geography, seamanship, navigation) and that carried over from the engineering corps’ curriculum, heavily technical, populated with a majority of specialized courses that prior to amalgamation the ‘line’ had most severely criticized.[32]  At a rudimentary level of knowledge, however, merger appeared to work at Annapolis and the curriculum achieved a rough balanced between the two former specialties.  While educational adjustments at Annapolis were effected with relative ease, what happened to officer education and assignments after he left Annapolis remained highly contested..

The former engineer specialists of the old engineering corps soon came to the conclusion that the merged curriculum at Annapolis was inadequate to the needs of modern and rapidly advancing engineering.  To their mind, it was an impossible task for a midshipman to learn both the fundamentals of the ‘line’ and to keep pace with the engineering body of knowledge.  Melville had from the outset appreciated the dangers of amalgamation and actually thought it best to have kept the engineering corps separate.  But as CDR Ed Beach in 1902 explained to interested naval officers, Melville and other officers supported amalgamation as the least worst outcome: it may have confused the identity of the profession, but at least it provided faster promotion for his officers.[33]  But Melville was never quite convinced of the wisdom of the merger, nor was he convinced it would prove permanent.  After 1899, Melville implemented educational measures to compensate for the reduced education program of engineers.  He established a graduate school at Annapolis that he hoped would promote a greater appreciation of engineering by the line, and, with regard to amalgamation, “…might have a very important effect in making the experiment a success.”[34]

 The 'line' did not initially welcome Melville’s engineering educational initiatives.  Graduate school policy became a scene of battle between differing conceptions over the identity of the line officer.   The traditional ‘line’ officers attempted to limit educational programs in order to exercise more control over the engineers while the technical bureaus saw this additional education as essential to the continued efficiency of the Navy.[35]   But even as the 'line' attempted to control the former engineers, the navy leaders began to concede that advances in the engineering profession might indeed require some naval officers to receive an advanced technical education. The Secretary of the Navy’s report of 1900 observed:  “It is not certain, however, that they (the machinists) can fully take the place of the highly trained technical engineer, upon whom must fall the duty of designing, superintending, construction, instructing in engineering branches, as well as supervising the motive power of our great ships.  The officers of this higher type should, in addition to practical knowledge, be possessed of that thorough theoretical training in steam engineering which comes from full academic education.  The act has not yet been long enough in operation to warrant the Department in a more extended statement as it its effect.”[36]  Within a few years of amalgamation the older “line” officers became more appreciative of the value of graduate education and in fact came to the aid of the technical bureaus when Admiral of the Fleet Dewey, senior member of the newly constituted General Board, attempted to terminate naval graduate education in the first decade of the twentieth century.[37]  But the old 'line' officers hoped the increased engineering education would be counter-balanced by broader, operational education perhaps gained at the Naval War College.  But their hopes were not realized.

Despite their temporary alliance against Dewey, the line and engineers continued to compete over their respective share of officer education.  To be sure, machines were becoming more complex, but so too were naval operations.  As a consequence of the Spanish-American War, the Navy had assumed new responsibilities across the globe, to include Asia and the Caribbean.  The rivalry between the operational ‘line’ and the technical engineers played out in competing educational institutions: the Naval War College devoted to integrated operations and strategy, and the engineering post-graduate school focused on more technical subjects.  Given the general reluctance of officers to pursue advanced education of any type, the competition for students was acute.  The Naval War College remained undersubscribed throughout this period, but in the year after the graduate school was established, the shortfalls in students at Newport were especially evident:  in 1910 the War College received no voluntary applicants while almost 200 line officers competed to attend the new marine engineering program at the graduate school.[38] The naval officer corps, through the voluntary education choices of its officers, was slipping into the technical quadrant. (See Figure 9). 

 

Figure 9:  Educational Choices by Officers Pushes Officer Corps into the "Technical Specialist" Quadrant

 

 

 

 

 

  The popularity of the ‘material’ schools of engineering caused a growing unease on the part of those officers convinced the mastery of integrated fleet operations was the highest calling for an officer.[39]  Retired Rear Admiral Stephen Luce, a founder of the war college, bitterly complained that the 'line' was unable, if not unwilling, to see the need for general (integrative) operational education: 

  "The point I wish to make is the lack of perception by the naval profession of the proper relations between the several parts of our system of naval education.  Our line officers seem to suffer from a species of 'mental astigmatism" or the inability of the will to focus the mental rays effectively upon the subject of naval education.  The rays of the mind are foreshortened, or they are unequal or they are divergent.  This is not uncommon with individual students.  But it is very rare when the great majority of the members of a profession are so afflicted.  Our officers fail to regard the navy as a unit, with several interdependent parts, just as the human body may be considered a unit made up of interdependent parts.  The specialist can diagnose his own particular part only, irrespective of all other parts and without regard to the whole.  But he only is master of his profession who can diagnose the entire body and discern the relations between the several parts and the influence on each upon the whole." [40] 

 

What Luce was lamenting was the slide of the naval officer model into the 'technical specialist' quadrant.  He feared that without the matriculation of a significant number of officers at integrative operational educational institutions-- like the Naval War College-- the ability of the naval profession to command and control fleets on a global scale would suffer.  

Competing visions on the part of the U.S. Navy's personnel managers would continue to push and pull the Navy's HR strategy through the four quadrants for the next 100 years, and in the process remake the successive generations of leaders.  While it is beyond the scope of this essay to catalogue these changes, each period of change and shift in Navy officer models up to the present can be illustrated by the Quad model.   It is believed that a tool that can help track U.S. Navy HR strategy changes may prove helpful for other HR managers in large, technically complex organizations both in government and industry.  end

 

 To get the entire model and article, write to hagerott@usna.edu or click here.

 

 

 

Modern Concept of Heroism

Duke University Alumni Magazine
... The Odyssey celebrate the warrior values of glory-seeking ... the first to have military
sounds with trumpets and ... became an emblem of brotherhood. It is the music ...
www.adm.duke.edu/alumni/dm14/hero.html - 32k - Cached - Similar pages

War: 

The Evolution of War: www.pe.utexas.edu/Dept/Academic/Courses/SP2001/TC357/chapters/ warev.htm - 44k - Cached - Similar pages    Warfare has “built up and destroyed nations, has molded and obliterated cultures, has overrun industry, commerce, agriculture, learning and art; and ... taking advantage of the scientific achievements of an uncontrolled civilizations, presents our kind with the greatest menace that has confronted it since our ancestors came down from the trees” (Coblentz 9). Since the beginning of civilization, war has left its mark on humanity; it affects every aspect of human culture and life. (to continue, click here )

The Roots of Terrorism:  www.oneworld.org/ni/issue161/keynote.htm - 23k    GAVRILO Princip’s act of terror changed the world. On a sunny June morning in 1914 the young Serbian nationalist waited nervously on a Sarajevo street corner for the heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire to pass. When the Archduke Francis Ferdinand’s open carriage rounded the corner Princip quickly removed a revolver from his coat pocket. He steadied his shaking hand, raised the gun and fired. The shot plunged Europe into World War One. The Hapsburg government in Vienna was outraged at what they called an act of Serbian terrorism and swore to destroy the source of this affront to the Empire. The rest, as they say, is history. (to continue, click here)

 

Combat Stories:     

The Longest Two Years: The story of an airman, Airman Hirschi, from his first day in the Army Air Corps to his eventual return to the United States after a harrowing two years over Germany, in the camps, and on the run. To read the story, click here.

 

General Military Interest:

The War on Military Culture - The Weekly Standard http://www.jameswebb.com/interview/milculture.htm

Modern American Culture and the Meaning of Memory and Memorial Day.. (click here)..

 

Fathers, Sons, and Brothers: Family Articles/Stories  (I/P)