It has been said that both courage and cowardice are contagious.  This is certainly true, as anyone who has spent time with a group engaged in some kind of enterprise knows well.  Courageous or cowardly actions always begin with one man; his example, witnessed by the rest of the group, is like a firebrand thrown on dried kindling.  And it has precisely the same effect.

Xenophon’s Anabasis, that compendium of lessons in leadership and endurance, offers many examples of courage’s inspirational potency.  We will turn now to book IV, chapter 3, for further discussion.  Xenophon’s Greeks had found themselves in a desperate predicament.  They had reached a river that was difficult to cross; on the far bank were hostile bands that might attack them, and to their rear were the menacing agitations of the Carduchians, another warlike tribe.  This predicament, says Xenophon, put the Greeks in a state of “great despondency.”  They did not know what to do.  But Xenophon, that cool-headed commander with a predilection for mystic inspiration combined with decisive action, decided to sleep on the problem.  A dream came to him that night:

That day and night, accordingly, they [the Greeks] remained there, in great perplexity.  But Xenophon had a dream; he thought that he was bound in fetters, but that the fetters fell off from him of their own accord, so that he was released and could take as long steps as he pleased.  When dawn came, he went to Cheirisophus, told him he had hopes that all would be well, and related to him his dream.  [Trans. by C.L. Brownson]

His innate faith in himself had manifested in the form of a dream.  A bit later, when Xenophon was eating breakfast, two of his men came running up to him to report news that would prove useful in crossing the river.  What I find important about this anecdote is how Xenophon explains the encounter.  He says, “[F]or all knew that they might go to him whether he was breakfasting or dining, and that if he were asleep, they might awaken him and tell him whatever they might have to tell that concerned the war.”  In other words, Xenophon as a commander was always available and accessible to his men.  He did not tell his men, “Go away, speak to me later, I’m busy now.” 

He grasped the importance of having information and intelligence in a timely matter.  This may sound elementary, but I can assure you that not every commander behaves this way.  One of the secrets of Ulysses S. Grant’s successful generalship was that he always wanted to be told important news—especially bad news—without the slightest delay.  He had the kind of temperament that could be awakened from a deep sleep to an immediate clarity of mind.  He would put on his boots, insert a cigar in his mouth, and calmly contend with being told that the enemy had just turned his flank and disaster might be looming.  And then he would deal with the problem.

In the same way, Xenophon was able to use his dreams as a source of confidence and strength.  It does not matter how one wishes to interpret his dreams; what matters is that Xenophon himself believed they meant something.  Confidence derived from whatever source is still confidence.  A bit later in the Anabasis (IV.4), Xenophon relates another very revealing anecdote.  He and his men had halted for the day in the Armenian mountains, and set up a bivouac.  During the night a large amount of snow fell, covering the men and their gear.  The snow was so deep that “it completely covered both the arms and the men as they slept, besides hampering the baggage animals.”  Xenophon tells us it was so cold that the underdressed Greeks did not want to get up out of the snow; for even though they were blanketed in snow, it was nevertheless acting as an insulator to keep them warm. It was Xenophon who was the first to rise.  And once he did, everyone else followed; his actions were contagious, and served to inspire others.  He says:

But once Xenophon had mustered the courage to get up without his cloak and set about splitting wood, another man also speedily got up, took the axe away from him, and went on with the splitting.  Thereupon still others got up and proceeded to build fires and anoint themselves [with oil or animal fat as an insulant]…[IV.4.13]

Bold, decisive actions are always contagious.  But someone has to take the first step.  If no one does anything, then nothing happens. Xenophon always understood that nothing good ever occurs without some external push in the appropriate direction.  When courage and decision are needed, someone always has to stick his neck out and go first. 

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Read more about great command decision-making in the new translation of Cornelius Nepos’s Lives of the Great Commanders.