One of the first things I had to do after enlisting in the U.S. Army and arriving at Basic Combat Training twenty-one years ago was memorize (and regularly recite) the Army Values, the Warrior Ethos and the Soldier’s Creed. Later, when I became a Non-commissioned Officer, I also had to memorize and recite the NCO Creed.
During BCT, we were expected to make our bunks every morning before formation, clean our barracks every night before going to sleep, pick up brass (spent casings) on range days, participate in regular outside cleanup around our barracks, and expertly maintain our equipment. Drill Sergeants regularly inspected our performance of these mundane tasks, and if anything was found below standards, we were made to do physical exercise (a punishment referred to as “getting smoked”).
Many of the young soldiers in my platoon were frustrated by the repeated smokings for seemingly minor offenses. Admittedly, when we were getting smoked in our dress green uniform immediately after our graduation ceremony on the last day of BCT, I was a good bit over it myself.
But as someone who was twenty-eight years old (a decade older than most enlistees), and a teacher in my civilian life, I understood it. It wasn’t just an excuse to build strength and endurance through repeated physical (and mental) exercises, though certainly that’s a large part of the strategy. It was also a lesson in self discipline. Because if we couldn’t be bothered to do the most basic tasks well, we were much less likely to approach tremendously difficult tasks with the same level of commitment and integrity.
We are creatures of habit. Patterns of mindfulness and disciplined action over time, no matter how small, build an ethic that is transferrable to the most important decisions we make in life. Likewise, patterns of carelessness, ego, and greed can build a framework for unethical behavior.
I’ve personally witnessed the actions of both exceptional and poor leaders, not just in the military where quality of leadership is so uniquely consequential. When I was working as a truck stop hotel housekeeper during my late teens and early twenties, a room on my list to clean one morning was quite literally splattered with shit. The bathroom walls. The floor. Even the comforter and sheets on the bed. When I called the front desk to have my manager come and look at the overwhelming mess, she told me not to touch anything and sent me on to clean the next room on my list. I cleaned a lot of nasty rooms in my time as a hotel housekeeper, but none as bad as that one. My manager wasn’t about to let a low-paid employee (and a teenage one at that) clean that room. Instead, as the highest-paid individual there and the one who was responsible for everyone else, she cleaned that room herself. Thirty-two years later, it’s still one of the clearest examples of good leadership I’ve ever witnessed, and it was one of many examples that set the standard for my own performance in leadership roles.
Long before that, my parents had taught me an unyielding sense of integrity through example. While it happened well after I was an adult, one of the most profound examples I instantly recall is when our 100-year-old house exploded from a propane gas leak beneath the foundation. Fortunately, no one was hurt, though my brother and his cat, who were the primary residents at the time, were inside when it happened. When the insurance company placed fault on the local man who filled the propane tank, my dad and brother refused to file the claim to receive compensation. They knew that if they filed that claim, the local man would lose his job, and in such a rural place, losing your job is as catastrophic as losing your home. The man, without prompting, paid the bill for demolishing our old house. He continued working and supporting his family until he was able to retire, and my brother moved in with our parents. To this day, everyone in my family understands and accepts the consequences of the decision that was made. We’re also well aware that few others would have done the same.
I chose to leave the traditional labor workforce and work for myself because I was tired of being asked and expected to act against my own values. When I was reprimanded for continuously standing my ground in a clear harassment case, I realized that I had no power to set things right as long as I answered to someone who didn’t, or couldn’t, act on the same principles. The older I get, the more unyielding I am about this. Certainly I make mistakes in judgment and fully understand that others do, too. I simply don’t agree with the myriad ways in which a workplace ethic is bent and broken in the name of power. I’m unwilling to barter my morals for someone else’s comfort and convenience. So I choose to live in such a way that I can, mostly, live by my own rules, and I’ve accepted the consequences of that decision (unreliable and inconsistent earnings, difficulty obtaining funding for projects, inadequate or complicated health insurance, being misunderstood by others, all of it).
Lately, especially with the malignant growth of generative AI (artificial intelligence) and an increasing collective reliance on it, I’ve found it useful to revisit my own processes and the motivation behind them. I recently wrote a Statement of Ethics and found the experience tremendously and unexpectedly empowering. Like illuminating a lighthouse that pierces through the pitch black night and guides me through the darkness.
I highly recommend trying it. There’s a good chance it will boost your sense of direction and purpose, and remind you what you stand for.
May it light your way forward.
Statement of Ethics.
My work in the outdoors is secondary to my connection to wild places and the benefits they offer. I do not carelessly pursue this work. While I am happy to make this my living and share the beauty and peace of these places, my primary responsibility is to the land and its inhabitants.
As such:
I endeavor to continuously reflect upon and educate myself regarding the effects of my own actions and take reasonable steps within my means to lessen negative impacts on the ecosystems in which I live, work, and recreate.
I create art that expresses emotions and invokes meaning through responsible processes that utilize my own skills, my own mind, and my own body. I do not use generative AI to produce or assist in any part of my work.
I offer mentorship based on my lived experience while leaving space for experiences that are yet unknown and/or different from my own. My approach is rooted in an uncompromising moral code that prioritizes integrity. I strive to live and lead with humility, compassion, curiosity, clarity, and courage.
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