One of my favorite passages in Doris Kearns Goodwin's “Team of Rivals,” is where Abraham Lincoln describes his irascible Secretary of the Treasury, Salmon P. Chase, as someone who is “never so perfectly happy unless he is thoroughly miserable.” The original quote comes from Lucius Crittenden's  “Recollections of President Lincoln and His Administration,” 1891. As an aphorism, it comes as close as anything to describing the personality of contrarians. The only thing I would change to complete the contrarian analogy is that they are never so perfectly happy as when they make “everyone else” thoroughly miserable.

While Abraham Lincoln had the skills and force of personality to mold an effective leadership team from men who just months earlier had been his rivals for the presidency, not everyone is a Lincoln. But every leader can apply the lessons learned from Lincoln's success in handling men whose views and agendas were often contrary to his own.

Be confident enough in your leadership ability to welcome brilliant, competitive people into your leadership circle:
Lincoln brought William H. Seward, Salmon P. Chase, Edward Bates, Simon Cameron and, later, Edwin M. Stanton into his cabinet. All had opposed him for the presidential nomination.

Identify those who place organizational goals first as opposed to those whose personal agenda takes precedence:
All of the above listed cabinet members had reservations about Lincoln and actively pursued independent agendas that, in some instances, were nearly insubordination. Lincoln gave them wide berth because of their dedication to winning the war but when pushed to the tipping point by Cameron and Chase, he fired them.

Countenance opposition and argument but not incompetence or disloyalty:
Lincoln bent over backwards in his support of the procrastinating but politically popular General George B. McClellan only to have McClellan continually castigate him for incompetence and treasonous behavior. Finally, it was McClellan's continuing battle failures that gave Lincoln the public support he needed to fire him.

Stop trouble in its tracks. Dissidents and the dissension they sow will sap your energy and that of the organization. Be quick and be ruthless in eliminating those who can't or won't work toward the common good.  Anything less is a dereliction of your duty:
Lincoln failed this test with McClellan but quickly and ruthlessly removed his first Secretary of War, Simon Cameron, who had proved to be inept and overwhelmed by his responsibilities. Lincoln fired him but allowed Cameron to give him a letter of resignation and then gave Cameron the face-saving appointment as ambassador to Russia. Leavening ruthlessness with humanity costs you nothing and saves you the animus of another enemy. Lincoln repeated this maneuver with Salmon Chase in 1864 when he, to the surprise of Chase, accepted his letter of resignation but then appointed the bitter Chase to be Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.

On a decidedly smaller scale than Lincoln's prosecution of the Civil War, anyone who has ever held a leadership position has experienced the debilitating effect of the few bad apples spoiling the atmosphere and effectiveness of the organization. As a leader in such a situation, the course of action you must follow is clear and unambiguous – an effective leader will take action to isolate, if not eliminate, those employees who cannot or will not get with the program.

As a manager of multiple professional offices during my 35-year career, I was blessed to work with people who, overwhelmingly, were dedicated and loyal to me and to our organization. At the same time, I was challenged by the few who were incapable of positively contributing to the success of the office. Those who were limited by their ability were relatively easy to deal with. Training, mentoring, reassignments worked miracles for some. For others, the only recourse was a strong recommendation to find success elsewhere. Know failure when you see it and take action to eliminate it.

Dealing with those whose only fault was lack of ability was relatively easy. Dealing with those who were contrarians by nature was difficult, time consuming, and yet, critical to the success of the organization as well as to my success as a leader.

Throughout my career, I found that there were always about 10 percent of staff who wouldn't pull their share of the load or exhibit loyalty to the office. These were the malcontents, the backbiters and the office gossips whose reason for being seemed to be the undermining of morale and efficiency. These 10-percenters were found at all grade levels. They were the lower level staffers who in crunch times would refuse to pick up the pace while denigrating others who worked beyond what the grade requirements were. Worse were senior level managers who while espousing the company line in leadership councils were, in private, persistently fighting to enhance their fiefdoms at the expense of the larger organization.  I could never tell if these were egocentrics intent on pursuing their personal agendas or people who just were unable to change their contrary nature. As destructive was the senior staffer who could not resist torpedoing every new idea by chiming in with, “well, it sounds like a good idea, but the trouble with that is.” It happened so often, one could perfectly time his interjection of this sour note of disapproval. He was the true contrarian who, unfortunately, created an atmosphere that stifled less senior staffers and even peers from offering new ideas.

Eliminating these opponents of good order in the organization challenges the skills of even the most seasoned leaders but ignoring them is a decision one soon comes to regret. Removing such people in today's world of bureaucratic safeguards for even the worst performers is a task not for the faint of heart. Sometimes, regrettably, the only recourse is the “Simon Cameron action” -- moving the problem employee to where he or she will be less of an obstacle to overall organizational success. As unpalatable as putting someone “on the shelf” is, at least he or she is removed from poisoning the atmosphere of the dedicated members of your team. Cut your losses quickly and ruthlessly and save yourself from the insidious effects of a culture of contrarians.

Richard L. Claypoole served in a variety of leadership positions for the National Archives, including being the Director of the Office of the Federal Register and the Assistant Archivist for Presidential Libraries and Museums. He was an editor of the Public Papers of Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter and editor in chief of the Public Papers of Ronald Reagan.

In 1957, I accepted an appointment as Minister in Charge of a Methodist parish in Alabama. The night I was ordained, Brother Pickard, a retired pastor said, “Max, most folks will not care how much you know until they know how much you care.” Little did I know then how that would play out in the years ahead.

I was the Minister in Charge by the appointment of the Bishop. I would become a pastor in the real sense only when and if I felt the people's pain, mourned their losses, and shared in what made them happy. I was tested by the conflict that arose when my preaching challenged their prejudices. Remember this was 1957 in a segregated Black Belt Alabama, and I was pastor to an all-white congregation. I preached, as best I knew how, of God's love that knows no bounds, and I challenged the age-old separate and unequal segregation of the races. The stage was set for conflict. The drama would unfold.

And unfold it did – from the first day we moved into the parsonage. That very night, a man knocked on the door. He said he was a member of one of the churches in my charge and just wanted to welcome me. He also said, almost as an aside, that there had been talk that the Klan had planned to burn a cross in front of the parsonage as a protest against the liberal preacher who preceded me. I knew that the county had a high Ku Klux Klan membership. After all, I was a son of the South, and I had been raised in a cotton mill town not far from where my churches were located. I knew where I was. I also knew that if the Klan thought my predecessor was liberal, I was in deep trouble. It didn't take me long that night to realize that my visitor was not there to welcome me as much as he was there to deliver a threat. I understood what he was saying. I responded to his message the only way I could think of at the moment. I said, “That would be terrible.” And when he nodded, I continued, “I keep a loaded shotgun inside the front door. I can imagine waking in the night with a mob burning a cross in my front yard, firing into the crowd and, God forbid, killing someone. I'm not sure I could live with that.”

          After he left, my wife said, “Why did you tell him that? You don't even own a gun.”
          I said, “I know, but he doesn't know that.”
          A couple of days later, a member of the church told me, “I hear you had a visit from the Klan the                     other night.”

The Klan never attempted to burn a cross in front of the parsonage. I never knew why not. I doubt if they felt intimidated by my presence. It may be they didn't think I was worth the effort. Whatever the reason, I never heard any more about it, and it was never mentioned in church.

However, racial conflict was the issue of the day, in and out of the Church. Responses to the threat of dismantling segregation were emotional, sometimes to the point of violence. Church members were angry, scared, and defensive as they struggled with their faith and conscience.

Before I unpacked my books, one of the churches in my charge called a meeting to vote on a proposal from the national Methodist Church to end segregation within its membership. Mine was the only voice in favor of the proposal. The reaction to my vote was swift, emotional, and threatening. One member called me a Communist, and I almost came to blows with another one. The thought occurrred to me that I might have the shortest term as pastor in the history of that church.

I remained as pastor for three years and left of my own accord. I cared for the people: burying the dead, consoling the suffering, baptizing the babies, marrying the young, and listening to people's problems. My family and I shared many a meal with families in the church. We couldn't ignore the dark clouds of racial conflict, but through our struggles, we held together as the Church – and I never equivocated in my preaching of God's inclusive love.

Quite often through those three years, I remembered what Brother Pickard had said about caring for the people. Over time, I realized that caring begins with respect. If we had judged each other only by first impressions of those turbulent beginning days, we would have parted company early on. If we had not determined to respect each other until we got to know each other better, we would never have discovered a shared vision or maintained any semblance of community.

There used to be a stop sign where Highway 24 runs into Highway 81 up in the northern part of Kansas. Below the Stop symbol was another sign that read, "Look both ways." And underneath that sign was another that said, "Look again." If we are to sustain a culture of peace and justice, our leaders can't wait until everyone holds hands and sings Kum Ba Yah together. Sometimes we have to say no to the mean spirit that pervades our world today. That calls for clever strategies and unyielding resolve. But it begins with respect. What do you see when you look at a neighbor with whom you disagree? Look again. Look for that shared vision. Prompted by the author of the Book of Proverbs, I write where there is no vision, the people perish, justice is denied, and compassion has its hands tied.

There is no report card on how well I succeeded as pastor to those country churches. That's not my point. The story happened long ago and far away in the crucible of troubling times, but the lessons learned then ring just as true today in these challenging times.

A sometime Storyteller, Pastor Max Hale has served over half a century in ministry in various settings, including the military, the campus, and the local church. You may follow him on his blog: www.avirtualfrontporch.com

There’s a familiar saying, usually attributed to director Woody Allen, that “80 percent of success is just showing up.”  There are two simple lessons here that are relevant for those of us who hope to exercise leadership in the public sphere.  You have to be in the room to have an impact.  And being present is not just a one-time activity.

Even in this age of social media campaigns, carefully choreographed events with coordinated shirts and banners, and a broader, firmer commitment to keeping the message short and consistent, there is nothing more helpful to advancing one’s cause than being present each and every day that there is public debate and decision-making.

In my current capacity as president of an association of small non-profit colleges, I spend plenty of my working hours wandering the halls of the State Capitol in Topeka.  On most days, I’m not there giving testimony on behalf of the colleges.  And I’m certainly not taking legislators to fancy dinners.  In fact, on most days, I don’t even have scheduled meetings with any legislators at all.  I sit through committee hearings on issues that might have some effect on education, small communities, or non-profits and I find a place to sit or stand in the hallways where I might have the chance to observe what’s really going on in the legislature that day.  I talk to others who I’ve come to know who work on issues unrelated to my own.  I have opportunities to get to know legislators, their hard-working staff assistants, their interns, and even sometimes their spouses.

And, most of all, I’m present.  And because I’ve been present, I’m seen by those who I wish to influence (i.e. legislators).  And because I’m seen each day, the legislators remember my name, remember the issues on which I’m particularly passionate, and seek me out for dialogue and debate and insight.  That makes it much easier to make my case on issues I care about. Simply put, because I “show up” every day, I have more opportunities to achieve my goals and those who I wish to influence are more amenable to my message.

“Showing up” in this way is not glamorous and it is rarely exciting.  There are no dramatic backroom plots like you might expect if you think “House of Cards” is a good depiction of the halls of politics.  Despite its lack of glamour or excitement though, just being present can be physically and emotionally exhausting.  And it sometimes can take weeks, months, or even multiple years of “showing up” before you have the relationships and respect to influence real action on your issues.  I’ve only been in this role for three years.  Other hard working folks have been working in the Capitol for 30 and 40 years.  Imagine what that sort of “showing up” has permitted them to achieve!

The Catch:

Unfortunately, the power of “showing up” has a direct connection to American cynicism about the political process.  That’s because not everyone can be consistently present, day-in and day-out.  Most Americans have jobs, and families and commitments that have nothing at all to do with politics or the issues on which they feel most passionate.

Last year, for instance, during the debate on public teacher tenure, there was a rush of teachers wearing red t-shirts, singing, and chanting, and showing their strength in numbers.  This went on for several days.  Eventually, however, those teachers had to go back to doing what they cared most about – teaching!  And in so doing, the potency of their individual stories faded.  Meanwhile, others who might not share those teachers’ views on the issues were able to maintain a day-in and day-out presence in the statehouse.

One solution is to hire lobbyists to be your delegate and to “show up” on your behalf.  Successful lobbyists are quite competent at the act of being consistently present.  But not everyone has the resources to pay for such services.

And this is where cynicism often emerges.  For most, you cannot spend all your time attending legislative meetings and hearings so as to influence action on issues you care about because you have a life.  Neither can you afford to hire someone to do this for you.  So the cynic can easily and understandably start to feel frustrated by the iniquity of such a system.  If showing up matters so much, and if it looks and feels like the political process is dominated by those who can afford the time or money to show up – and thus their issues and views are embraced – then why engage at all?

The Path Forward:

Sadly, there is no simple solution to this dilemma.  Public challenges and issues grow ever more complex, making it even more important to be present, and ever more difficult to do so for the average citizen.

Technology can provide a few useful tools.  Video of legislative committees could be streamed on the internet, for instance.  A bi-partisan group of Kansas legislators has been trying to make this possible, so far unsuccessfully.  Some state legislators are personally active on Twitter and often will engage in healthy debate with followers who inquire respectfully.  But these are nibbling around the edges of the trickier issue.

If I could see one big change, it would be to see more individual Kansans make it an annual commitment to go to Topeka and “show up.”  Meet with your legislators and others who share your interests and values.  Talk about why you care about the things you care about.  See how the political process truly works and contribute beyond a staged and well-publicized event.  Be present, be seen, and do it more than once in your lifetime.  Change may come slowly, over many years.  But if Woody Allen’s thinking was correct, if enough Kansans “show up” over many years, more Kansans would start to feel optimism rather than cynicism about the workings of politics and policy.

Matt Lindsey is the president of the Kansas Independent College Association & Fund, where he coordinates a range of programs designed to strengthen Kansas' private, non-profit, colleges through collaboration, governmental advocacy, and public engagement and to support the ability of college students to choose and afford an effective, high-quality college education that fits their individual goals. Lindsey previously worked as the Executive Director for Kansas Campus Compact and as an adjunct faculty member with Kansas State University's Staley School of Leadership Studies.  He also worked in Washington, DC as the Senior Associate for Freedman Consulting, where he advised non-profits, philanthropies, and civic groups on public advocacy strategies.

“Public sentiment is everything. With public sentiment, nothing can fail; without it, nothing can succeed. Consequently, he who molds public sentiment, goes deeper than he who enacts statutes or pronounces decisions.” (Abraham Lincoln, Lincoln-Douglas Debates. Harold Holzer, “Lincoln and the Power of the Press”). 

For any president to be an effective leader, he must also be a skilled communicator. To do so, he must command the publicity mediums available to him in his time to sway public opinion - public sentiment - to his cause, his vision. Lincoln led the nation to support his policies and vision through the assiduous use of the power of his pen in hundreds of letters and articles written to the national newspapers; for Teddy Roosevelt, it was the social issue magazines with by-lines of those who would become known as the “muckrakers”, for presidents beginning with Calvin Coolidge, it was the transformative medium of radio, and, beginning with Harry Truman, the cool medium of television which became the means by which presidents molded public sentiment in support of their vision. And in 2015, Barack Obama leads through a personal interaction with practically anyone who has a computer.

If the “modern presidency” can be defined through the prism of modern communication technology, then the administration of Calvin Coolidge is an appropriate place to begin.

Forever to be known as “Silent Cal”, Coolidge was anything but silent. From assuming the presidency in 1923 upon the death of Warren G. Harding, until leaving office in 1929, Coolidge was heard by more Americans than all of the presidents before him combined. His Inaugural Address of 1924 was heard on radio by 23 million listeners whereas, just four years before, Warren Harding's audience for his Inaugural Address was 125,000. (White House Historical Association)

In using the communication mediums of their times, presidents exercised leadership in ways that reflected their personalities and the unique character traits with which they are associated. With Harry Truman, the “buck” stopped with him. Ronald Reagan was “the Great Communicator”; Lyndon Johnson was unconvincing on camera but was known for twisting arms and other appendages to achieve his goals; Bill Clinton conveyed that he “felt your pain”; FDR came into your home for a “fireside” chat; John Kennedy co-opted the media with his charm and charisma; Dwight Eisenhower combined the aura of his Army command with the glittering smile of the “man who comes from the very heart of America”; George W. Bush rallied the country after the worst peacetime attack in American history much as George H. W. Bush rallied the world to stop Iraq's aggression in Kuwait. And, Gerald Ford brought comity back into the political arena by his calm everyman demeanor after the nation-rendering impact of Richard Nixon and Watergate. But lest Nixon's communication skills be relegated to his maudlin farewell speech on his resigning the presidency, history will remember that he saved his vice-presidential candidacy and political career with his “Checkers” television performance in 1952.

For all of these men, the tool they used to exercise their power and to lead the country in support of their policies was the electronic medium that changed the art of presidential communication from mom and pop retail politics to that of one-stop shopping at a wholesale chain store.  “Torch light parades”, “front porch” campaigning, editorials in partisan newspapers and magazines, and whistlestop barnstorming that had formed the crux of presidential communication for over a century, were supplanted in a short moment in time by a technology that brought presidents into homes in every corner of of the nation.  With this technology, presidents were given a new instrument of leadership by which they could persuade, cajole and convince Americans to follow and support their visions.

Harry Truman characterized the sum of presidential power when he said, “I sit here all day trying to persuade people to do the things they ought to have sense enough to do without my persuading them. That's all the powers of the President amount to." (“Presidential Power and the Modern Presidents”, Richard E. Neustadt).

Coming from the man famous for saying “the buck stops here”, this lament on the extent of his power may reflect the impotence Truman felt on a daily basis in the Oval Office.  Move Truman to the 21st Century and instead of leading the relatively few through personal conversations and 20th Century technology, he would have the enormous power of the internet and social media with which to influence and lead public opinion. One can only hope it is a power that will be well and wisely exercised.

Richard L. Claypoole served in a variety of leadership positions for the National Archives, including being the Director of the Office of the Federal Register and the Assistant Archivist for Presidential Libraries and Museums. He was an editor of the Public Papers of Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter and editor in chief of the Public Papers of Ronald Reagan.