and doing the Highest Moral Action despite risk to self‐interest. Our students and faculty have learned to disagree well by respecting others, listening first, articulating their discerned conclusions, and making tough decisions with strength and civility.
The Courage Playbook takes these concepts to new levels of self‐awareness in clearly stated ways. What might have been simply noble and vital aspiration becomes tangible, measurable practice—character made real. One's courage is not questioned, but is only expanded to appear more consistently in everyday behavior through empirical suggestions and steps. This work is a superb guide to helping us become our best selves despite fear and stress. By following the recommendations included herein, one will become stronger and find ways to make one's organizations and teams more productive and effective, thriving in ways that might not otherwise have been imagined. In any era, and perhaps especially in today's climate of blaming, name‐calling, and judging others, their actions, and beliefs categorically, The Courage Playbook provides us with a clear and decisive road map to follow. Through courage, Character first. Character last. Character always.
I am eager to learn how The Courage Playbook impacts my former school and all others. From this vantage point, I envision tomorrow's leaders will exhibit courage, be unafraid to take necessary and intelligent risks, and will hold close the greater good and the well‐being of others as their personal desires. Forward we go with courage!
Arnie Holtberg, Eugene McDermott Headmaster, St. Mark's School of Texas (Retired); Principal, Hong Kong International School; and former NY Yankees minor league catcher
Acknowledgments
To Diane, for her guidance in writing The Playbook and all of our books, and mostly for her love and for everything in everything.
To the many who rescued, encouraged, and trained me in courage. Special appreciation to those who make the world a better place by having dedicated their lives to the development of courage, character, and leaders of character, with my personal thanks to Coaches Antonio Gallo and Bonifacio Tizon; Toussaint Streat, MD; Terry Stein, MD; Professors Warren Bennis, Kwang‐ching Liu, and James R. Edwards; CEOs Christopher A. Kay and Richard K. Eitel; Dr. Tim Keller, and to those who have done so at West Point and in the US Army: Dr. James “Sully” Sullivan; COL (Ret) Larry “Whitey” White; CSM (Ret) Theodore L. Dobol; CSM (Ret) George Kihara; GEN (Ret) H. Norman Schwarzkopf; GEN (Ret) Fred M. Franks, Jr.; COL (Ret) Douglas Boone; LTG Ronald P. Clark; and COL (Ret) Glenn A. Waters. My special thanks to national security professional Ben Bain for his wise inputs.
Many thanks to my clients and to Gary, Aiden, Bella, Alicia, Caleb, Anita, Sean, David, Josh, Gracie, Clifton, Alphonse, and Deke, who continue to instruct and inspire others.
Our gratitude and love, always, to Jane Dystel and Miriam Goderich of Dystel, Goderich & Bourret, Literary Agents, our dear friends who have made writing possible and enjoyable while keenly shepherding my career. Thanks to my sister, Amy Tan, who opened the door. Thanks to Zachary Schisgal, Dawn Kilgore, Donna J. Weinson, Manikandan Kuppan, and the art and marketing teams at Wiley for their professional support and teamwork in bringing The Playbook to life.
Introduction
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
—Gandalf, in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring
In the years since the publication of Courage: The Backbone of Leadership,1 we as a country have seen our levels of conflict, fears, and anxieties soar like an Elon Musk rocket. The first casualties? Our already questionable abilities to respect all people and to actually listen to each other.
The Playbook challenges us to do the highest moral action in the routines of everyday life. It's not about the rarely needed physical bravery of running into burning buildings. It's really about authentically respecting others in the here and now to instill a strong and meaningful rhythm in our daily lives. When do we need courage? Every time we interact with someone or face any manner of decision. Where does this need arise? At home, in families, during commutes, at work, in relationships, in the gym, and out with friends—whenever moments quietly call upon our actual ability to be courageous. Often, we don't even notice or, fearing discomfort, we look the other way. Every day, we lose opportunities to become our best selves. Based on my own history of weakness, I know we can do better. I train people to overcome their fears. Long experience with diverse clients has taught me to focus on two principles:
First, as individuals and as a people, we need to use UPR, Unconditional Positive Respect.
Second, UPR is achieved by practice. Practicing UPR takes courage.
What's courage? It's the deep, mystic chord with which we can lead our lives and inspire others to become their best selves. It seamlessly equips us to improve who we are. It optimizes how we use the time given us. Courage fuels our brave adventuring into a life of deeper meaning, of helping others, of serving a higher, unselfish cause in a grand narrative, of becoming who we always wished to be. It is doing that liberating right thing which at first seems undoable.
Courage counts because we often allow our anxieties, fears, and doubts to play with us like a kitten with ball of yarn. We sweat out energy worrying about the external and forget that we were internally wired to practice courage so that we can lead and live with this great, unflinching, untapped, life‐uplifting source of strength. Courage, like a world‐class runner in the blocks, merely awaits our decision to run the race of life with a stronger purpose.
Courage is many things. For starters, courage is more an action than an abstraction, and is more behavioral than theoretical. Courage is doing the highest and grandest right thing.
As a child, I had many disadvantages with the special decision‐making ability of a defective video game character. This led to a life of fear and flight, of dwindling in the face of challenges. I let myself slide into cowardice. But courage was chasing me. I knew it was there, just beyond reach. I couldn't see it and I couldn't name it—but I could sense it. Later, being coached by selfless men and women forced me to accept that even I could become courageous.
“Life,” wrote Anais Nin, “expands or shrinks in proportion to one's courage.”2 Gaining courage stopped my shrinkage. It changed everything, like Peanuts’ Charlie Brown, the hapless cartoon character never again losing the kite and now always getting to kick the football.
“The Y,” said Coach Tony, “ain't a boxing factory. None o’ you are likely to go pro. The Y's here for you to get inner courage. Build your character. Uh, 'specially you, kid.”
Can anyone acquire courage? Certainly. But today, many can only sense courage the way I did as a child. We know in a vague way that courage is there. But we see it incompletely and understand it imperfectly, with an ancient fear that courage is full of promise but in reality is an unwinnable lottery ticket.
Critically, we forget that courage is a set of practiced behaviors, a way of life, and a fundamental form of human identity.
Courage recruited me, an All‐American Chicken Little. I feared everything, ran from my own fears, and couldn't find “courage” in the dictionary. It methodically equipped me to obey my coaches, practice doing the right thing, train others to beat their fears, and to care for those whom I could reach. Courage gave me life. Because it can be acquired by anyone,
