Early in my first assignment, which was at Pearl
Harbor, I remember several lengthy conversations with the destroyer squadron
commander for whom I worked. He was very concerned, as was I, about motorcycle
accidents annually claiming the lives of almost a dozen young sailors in the
squadron, usually involving alcohol and excessive speed. He thought the Captain
of the sailor's ship responsible for the sailor's death. I disagreed. I
maintained that if the ship's skipper had done everything reasonable to avoid
motorcycle fatalities – having quality programs to teach motorcycle safety, to
stress compliance with vehicle laws, to deglamorize alcohol consumption and
promote safe behaviors, etc. – some young sailors would still chose to behave
irresponsibly.
The squadron commander adamantly insisted that the
ship's Captain was responsible: a motorcycle accident fatality constituted
prima facie evidence that the Captain had failed to take effective action. I,
conversely, maintained that sailors had some measure of autonomy and no set of
measures existed whereby a Captain could ensure that none of his crew would
become a motorcycle accident fatality. The squadron commander and I never
resolved our disagreement, though we did develop a mutual respect that grew
into lasting friendship.
I soon realized that an ethos of accountability
coupled with an expectation of zero defects in all things permeated the
military. The aim for zero defects, often without an emphasis on accountability
more broadly seems to characterize the federal government (remember recent
Department of Veterans Affairs' scandals in which managers tried to deflect blame
instead of accept responsibility).
In my third assignment as a chaplain at a Naval Air
Station, I had numerous conversations with pilots. In subsequent assignments,
my circle of dialogue partners included test pilots, astronauts, surgeons, and
nuclear engineers. Sometimes, we should aim for zero defects (who wants to
awaken from surgery to find that the wrong body part was removed or sail aboard
a nuclear powered submarine in which the reactor is likely to fail?). In these
conversations, my dialogue partners and I would frequently seek to identify
those times when a zero defect mentality is essential, when can help, and when
it is counter-productive.
Occasionally, I would encounter someone for whom
perfection in all things was the goal. Such individuals inevitably suffered
from overwork, experienced great frustration, and never achieved success.
Conversely, I have also known individuals who never strove to achieve
excellence, always satisfied with the minimum required effort and minimum
required standards.
Abundant living entails an individual accepting
some measure of responsibility for one's destiny (nobody is in complete control
of her/his destiny) and then deciding when to aim for excellence (or even
perfection) and when "good enough" will suffice.