Leader's Insight: Leadership in Crisis

I have spent much of the past month calling ever-busy phone numbers, e-mailing friends who might have heard from other mutual friends, and searching the Internet for aerial photographs of my old neighborhood. Was my former church still standing? My seminary? My friends’ homes?

I have spent much of the past month remembering. I lived in New Orleans nine years as seminary student and pastor. In that time, the grimy gumbo of cultures became my home. I became enamored of the food and music. I was befriended by people I hope will remain close for my lifetime. I came to care deeply about the place. I also became aware of the depth of New Orleans’ poverty—and its breadth, especially in Orleans parish where I lived and ministered.

And I have spent much of the past month pondering the effects of one, now two hurricanes; the horrific loss of life and the state of my former church, whose current pastor—rescued from the roof of his home—now ministers in exile. So many members are deciding to relocate outside the city that the future of that church and many others is in jeopardy.

And I have come to the conclusion that once again it’s about leadership.

First, the people: What became of the man with the lemon-colored python? I have wondered. (That’s a story for another time.) And Koz, who made the best po-boys in town, and his family. And our Caribbean acquaintance across the street whose wonderful jerk chicken for $5 a plate supplemented her poverty-level income. And what of Raymond, the mischievous eight-year-old next door whose sister threatened him in all the neighbors’ hearing, “If God don’t get you, Mama will!” These were the people in our neighborhood. What happened to them? Are they alive?

And what of our church family? Bizzie, whose spiritual gifts are faith and plumbing, and Pat his wife, our female Barnabas? And Miz Lu, our preschool director who loved more people to Jesus than anyone I know? And so many more. They survived, but their homes are destroyed. What will happen to them now? As always, they are in God’s hands, but their future is adversely affected by the bad decisions of leaders.

Second, some analysis: I have been angry for all of September—angry at leaders who failed to lead, who passed the buck, who made life-and-death calls far too late. And I have come away with a few conclusions about leadership. Whatever the crisis, survival, as much as it depends on humans, comes down to leadership. Here are my current conclusions:

1. The people nearest the crisis must take responsibility as first-line leaders. People in New Orleans often spoke of having an ax in the attic. “Whatever for?” I asked. “I lived through Betsy,” was the reply. That was a shorthand description for a 1965 hurricane whose fast-rising floods trapped hundreds in their attics. Those who had no ax in the attic drowned.

The lesson was not lost on the old timers in the city, but apparently it was lost on local leaders. Those who knew their whole lives that the city was a below-sea level bowl that survived only by the mercy of a patchwork levee system made few and feeble evacuation plans. When the big one turned toward the city, they waited until less than one day before landfall to call for evacuation. While people drowned, city busses that could have been used to ferry them to safety sat a mile away and also succumbed to the tide. The mayor’s response: blame the federal government and curse God on the radio.

Application: Survey the ministries and people for which I am responsible. Make emergency plans. Be ready to act without instruction from people far away who are largely unacquainted with my situation. Teach leaders under me to make decisions, then support those decisions.

2. Weepy leaders lose respect. The governor of Louisiana, bless her heart, wept almost every time she stood before the cameras in the first two days after the storm. She lost my respect. I appreciate that she felt overwhelmed by the calamity and personally aggrieved by the loss of life; but her people needed her to be strong. I needed her to be strong. I also watched Jefferson Parish president Aaron Broussard suffer a near collapse on national television, more than once. A better model was U.S. Senator Mary Landrieu who dabbed her eyes but vowed to keep fighting. Empathy is vital to good leadership, but copious weeping looks like a plea for personal sympathy.

Application: Cry privately, then get a grip. Express your emotions verbally, not with many tears. Rudy Giuliani teared up publicly only days after 9/11.

3. Lead. And be seen leading. President Bush waited four days before touring the strike zone. That was a big mistake. A fly-over two days after landfall was not enough. His slow response became the dictionary photo for slow government.

A reporter for ABC News summarized it this way: President Bush learned a key lesson. It is important to act, but it is also important to be seen acting. This may be a political lesson, but it is vital for all leaders. If our people don’t know we’re leading, how can they have confidence in our work?

Application: Get on the ground quickly. Don’t rely on the reports of bureaucrats and gossipmongers; get first-hand accounts. Personally express your concern. Then quickly develop your next steps.

4. Act like a leader, not a storm chaser. (This is in contrast to number 3.) Once he realized he had waited too long to inspect the devastation, Bush began a succession of visits to every small spot where people complained they were being ignored. By the time of the second storm, Hurricane Rita, Bush was at the regional command center in Colorado, appearing as if he were personally calling for evacuations and deploying relief teams. Maureen Dowd of the New York Times said he “looked like the Today Show weatherman” chasing the storms.

Application: Do your job; let others do their jobs. Maintain the mantle of leadership. When the situation is under control, and you finally have qualified people in place, let them do what they were hired for. There appears to be a fine line between “energetic” and “frantic.” Frantic leaders lose credibility like slow leaders and weepy leaders.

5. Identify the lessons learned in failure, and pass them on quickly. To their credit, those in charge appeared much better prepared for the second hurricane three weeks after the first. Evacuations in Texas were ordered 72 hours in advance, not a mere 20. Some 650 buses were ready to transport the stranded, not a slight 100. Almost 400 trucks of ice and water were on scene before the storm, not a mere 95 trucks many days after. Local and national leaders were really leading. The question raised by one analyst, Will these lessons be forgotten in a decade, as the lessons from Hurricane Andrew apparently were?

Application: Document the crisis and the leaders’ response. Draw younger leaders close to the crisis leadership, so they can learn and be prepared for the next big one.

To respond to this newsletter, write to Newsletter@LeadershipJournal.net.