Turning Points and Tumbling Horizons: The Rhetoric of Leadership

in Times of Crisis

Peter Chiaramonte, PhD

Director of Organizational Leadership
Mansfield University of Pennsylvania
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Abstract

Reading the biographies of great leaders and explorers is a time-honored way

of gaining knowledge and inspiration for models of leadership. In this essay,
we apply a narrative approach to studying leaders’ rhetoric in times of crisis. In
particular, we review the books, diaries, and documents of twentieth century
Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen, from his 1911-12 expedition to be first
to the South Pole.

We identify four key rhetorical features which are salient to contemporary leaders,
especially where risk-taking and pioneering are prerequisites for a successful
outcome: dramatic ‘identity stories,’ symbolic turning points, commitment to freedom of
choice and consensus, and competitive ‘counterstories.’ We believe this narrative
approach to the study of the drama of organizational life offers a meaningful
glimpse into the mind of a great leader in times of crisis. Upon review, we
discover the full range of challenges we all face, when we odyssey bravely into
uncharted territories.

Key Words

Crisis
Dramatic
Leadership
Rhetoric
Turning Points

Introduction

Great leaders and explorers are emulated when they suit us, and overlooked
when they do not. Fifty to 100 years ago, characterized by world war and
national sacrifice, Englishman Robert Falcon Scott seemed to fit the bill. More
recently, fellow countryman and Antarctic explorer Ernest Shackleton’s
achievements—putting the highest premium on loyalty and survival—resonate
more powerfully than ever before. But the explorer who actually won the race
to the South Pole in 1911, Norwegian Roald Amundsen, has yet to capture
similar prominence and recognition in the academic and popular literature on
organizational leadership.
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The story of The Last Place on Earth1 is about the great race between British and
Norwegian Antarctic expeditions in 1911-19122—under the rival commands of
polar explorers Robert Falcon Scott and Roald Amundsen—to be first to the
South Pole. Amundsen’s innovations in physical and confluent cognitive-
emotional adaptations, teamwork, and rhetoric, are exemplars of leadership
worthy of further exploration and revival.

Virtually every situation an organizational leader of any description faces today

has everything to do with rhetoric of one type or other—speeches, written
documents, small group discussions, press releases, presentations to large
audiences, one-on-one, letters, articles, vision statements, planning reports, and
so forth. Each of these is, to some extent, the result of key rhetorical actions
that serve to shape and direct the whole enterprise.

The rhetoric of leadership in times of crisis must create identification for, and
with, a worthy goal of achievement. The protagonist in this ‘identity story’
invariably announces his or her goal as something new and different—but at
the same time embodying values and themes from a more stable, less turbulent
past. The leader should also make the case that undertaking so noble a task
will not be easy. It will be a competitive struggle for high stakes; not
determined by any one individual, but decided by free will and a commitment
to teamwork. All who risk their lives in the cause are to have a discretionary
voice in matters of importance to the entire team. “We are all captains,”
Amundsen had posted on the saloon wall of his ship the Fram, “we are all
crew.”

The rhetoric at turning points or periods of organizational transition are

appropriate for emphasizing recurring values that can offer leaders and
followers a clearer sense of direction (Morrell, 2006: 379). People engaged in
rhetorical action may be largely unaware of the extent to which the dramatic
context of the narrative approach can contribute to everything that is decided
or occurs. Our position is that understanding the way rhetoric is used and
reused in the drama of organizational life is a most vital aspect of leadership.
And whenever a crisis occurs, the next step forward is greatly enhanced by
leadership rhetoric that customarily states: ‘this is a new idea, which represents
a break from the past, or a radical return to the roots of the past, which has
been neglected or misused’ (Eccles and Nohira, 1992). This underscores
Amundsen’s rhetorical strategy for defeating Scott.

Our inclusion of the study of rhetoric and the dramatic structure of

organizational life into the leadership curriculum is intended to promote
thinking about lived experience, and the underlying dynamics we take part in on a
daily basis (Van Maanen, 1995). We argue that the power in leaders’ rhetoric
lies in narrating team identity, engaging in symbolic turning points, constituting
freedom of choice and consensus, and embodying a competitive spirit in crisis
circumstances, leading to new opportunity.
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The Dramatic Structure of Organizational Life

Everyone can relate to crisis. The word itself denotes a turning point, from
Greek, krisis ‘decision.’ The general sense of a ‘decisive point,’ in English, dates
back to the early 17th century. Dramatic crises often produce lessons of
fortitude and renewal that captures our attention and concern. These are the
“three uses of the knife,” American dramatist David Mamet writes about, the
decisive turning points at each turn of a three-act play. Most of us gain
reassurance and resolve from hearing tales about how crisis and failure do not
condemn one to failure, but offer hope. As we shall see in the case of Roald
Amundsen, it’s the getting up again that counts.

Leaders who inspire success bore from difficult circumstances often use
identity stories to bring about dramatic change. We all have heroes to look up
to in this regard. For example, business leaders might point to Arthur
Martinez’s rescue of Sears from oblivion. Sony’s Akio Morita and Apple’s
Steve Jobs each made excellent use of their mistakes and learned from them
how to turnaround their company’s fortunes. For this inquiry, we direct our
attention to the profound, and too often neglected, story of the first persons to
the ends of the Earth. However long ago and far away these events may appear
at first, we find in the rhetoric of Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen—the
focus of our study throughout the remainder of this essay—a compelling
narrative perspective lacking in the routine filing of business reports and self-
congratulatory memoires of a current crop of politicians, bankers, and media
celebrities.

We have identified four key confluent features at work in Amundsen’s rhetoric

during times of crisis and momentous discovery:

Dramatically Structured ‘Identity Stories’

Symbolic Turning Points
Commitment to Freedom of Choice and Consensus
Competitive ‘Counterstories.’3

Although we distinguish each of these features for the sake of analysis, in terms
of rhetorical action, they occur confluently as a synergy of affects. (1)
Dramatically structured “identity stories” (Gardner, 1995), are those that embody
shared values, mutual goals, and values followers can relate to and identify
with; (2) Symbolically presented turning points, are stories and communications
embodied in celebratory rituals, themes, and symbols (e.g. emblems of courage
and endurance in the face of adversity); (3) Commitment to freedom of choice and
consensus in making important decisions affecting the entire team; and (4)
Competitive “counterstories” (Gardner, 1995), used to compete with rival identity
stories—each vying for the attention and commitment of followers.
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Rivals for the Pole

Following his historic success in navigating the North West Passage—across

the top of North America—in 1905, Roald Amundsen began setting his sights
on the discovery of the North Pole. Hounded by the press to reveal his tactics,
Amundsen kept his plans close to his chest—carefully couching his intentions
in the rhetoric of scientific study, as opposed to “pole seeking” for its own sake.

One of the rhetorical lessons Amundsen learned from previous explorers such
as countryman Dr. Fridtjof Nansen was how to dress geographical exploration
in the cloak of its immense value to science. These core values, goals, and
attitudes inherent in scientific exploration were crucial to promoting the
Norwegian expedition. Science sells—then—as now. In the newspaper
Aftenposten, a leading exponent of the new popular journalism of its time,
Amundsen outlined his first plot:

[To] leave Norway at the beginning of 1910…run round Cape Horn to

San Francisco…thence to Point Barrow…for a drift of four to five years
over the Polar Sea…from the moment the vessel has been frozen into
the ice, the observations begin with which I hope to solve some of the
hitherto unsolved mysteries.

This prelude incited a series of events, which demonstrate certain rhetorical

features we believe ultimately led to Amundsen’s accomplishing his mission.
His speech to the newspapers announces the first act in the play for the Pole.
The Norwegians’ identity story was about to be acted out on a world stage, by a
national hero.

A long ovation greeted Amundsen’s address, which as Aftenposten’s reporter put

it, “clearly showed the trust placed in the bold seaman and scientist, who had
just presented his daring plans” (Huntford, 1979: 197). At the same time
Amundsen was engaged in his Arctic apprenticeship among the Canadian Inuit,
British naval Captain Robert Falcon Scott, together with Dr. Edward Wilson
and Lieutenant Ernest Shackleton, was making history at the other end of the
Earth, by reaching the “Furthest South” in Antarctica (450 miles from the
Pole) in 1902.

Afterwards, Shackleton commanded his own campaign to Antarctica in 1908-

09, and came within 97 miles of the South Pole—before a shortage of food and
fuel forced his party to retreat. Shackleton lifted the veil that still rested over
the interior of Antarctica. “One end of the Earth had been claimed,” said
Amundsen in his memoires, “But at the other a little corner still remained”
(Amundsen, 1912). What did the Norwegian explorer have in mind?
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Back in Norway, Amundsen secretly began to recruit a new team (largely

consisting of several of the men who had previously accompanied him on the
North West Passage) for his expedition to be first to the North Pole.
Amundsen’s original plan was to repeat Fridtjof Nansen’s historic northern
drift on Fram in 1893-96. Nansen used his knowledge of the east-west currents
from Siberia to drift westwards towards the North Pole. Amundsen borrowed
from the methods, themes, traits, and symbols of courage embodied in the
heroic voyage of Dr. Nansen and Hjalmar Johansen’s “Furthest North”
adventure, including its scientific credibility.

Often quoted leadership theorist and cognitive psychologist, Howard Gardner,

has explained, “Leaders achieve their effectiveness chiefly through the stories
they relate.” These “stories of identity” are narratives “that help individuals
think about and feel who they are, where they come from, and where they are
headed. [Such stories] constitute the single most powerful weapon in the
leader’s literary arsenal.” Leaders, says Gardner, achieve their effectiveness
through the stories they relate and, equally important, embody. Is this merely
“rhetorical,” or are they relating stories of the lives they have led and thereby
seek to inspire in others? (Gardner, 1995: 10).

Great leaders are prodigious storytellers who take a story that has been latent,
but muted or neglected in the culture, and bring a new twist to that identity
story for a new audience of followers. Leaders revive stories and reactivate
themes from one place and past, on to another stage from which to build new
ventures.

Rumors of Glory

In the meantime, while Roald Amundsen was hard at work on his preparations
for his North Polar journey, in Christiana (later renamed Oslo), his brother
and business manager, Leon relayed the news that American Dr. Frederick
Cook had claimed to reach the geographic North Pole in 1908. Another
American explorer, Robert Peary, disputed Cook’s contention. Peary claimed
to have been first to plant the Stars and Stripes of the United States at the
North Pole in 1909. Actually, there remain strong doubts that either explorer
accomplished this feat.4 Regardless, after hearing of Cook’s contention,
Amundsen decided to postpone his secret plans for the North. To get finance,
he inferred, you needed a coup. Few are ever convinced by a boring story—
however well reasoned the logic of it.

Fearing his benefactors would withdraw their support for another Arctic
journey—now that the North Pole had apparently fallen—Amundsen secretly
decided to solve the problem of the South Pole, before venturing north again.
Although Amundsen remained publicly committed to further exploration of the
North Polar Basin, he privately revealed to his brother Leon, his secret plan to
take the South Pole along the way.
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After Peary claimed to have reached the North Pole on April 6th 1909, one year
after Frederick Cook, Amundsen was asked for his opinion of this feat in an
interview with the New York Times. Here he suggested that:

It would be useless to make speculations as to the points arrived at by

the two explorers. It is not important if the exact mathematical pole was
reached or not, but it is important that the geographical conditions of
the spot were observed. Probably something will be left to be done.
What is left will be sufficient for all of us (Huntford, 1979: 206).

This begs the question: what’s been left undone? Here we see the embodiment
of a competitive counterstory in Amundsen’s rhetoric. He is, in effect, dramatically
setting the stage. To Roald Amundsen, whether or not either Frederick Cook
or Robert Peary actually reached 90 degrees of latitude in the North was
irrelevant. It was the claim itself that counted. What was there left to claim?

With the question of the North Pole settled in the public consciousness—if
Amundsen were to succeed in rousing interest for his own enterprise—nothing
remained for him as an explorer other then to solve the mystery of the “last
place on Earth.” That he looked once again for new worlds to conquer was
entirely in keeping with the explorer’s character. So too, was his cunning as an
expeditionary competitor.

Volte-Face
Robert Falcon Scott, relieved by Ernest Shackleton’s misfortune5—soon after
announced his plan to retrace Shackleton’s march from McMurdo Sound, up
through the Beardmore Glacier, and on to the Polar Plateau—thus completing
the last 100 miles to the South Pole. Unbeknownst to Scott, Amundsen had
decided to blaze a completely new trail from the Bay of Whales through the
unexplored terrain 400 miles to the east of the British base in McMurdo Sound.
No one had ever attempted a landing on the dangerous Ross Ice Barrier in the
Bay of Whales before. Amundsen would be the first.

Officially setting out as if to make his way to the North Polar Basin via Cape
Horn around the southern tip of Argentina,6 the Norwegian expedition left
Christiana on June 3rd, 1910. On board Fram, Amundsen gave the order to
pull anchor and set sail. However, he had yet to tell his crew the truth about
their itinerary. He waited until the ship was “beyond recall” before making the
announcement. There were sound reasons for Amundsen’s having kept secret.
For one thing, he was still heavily in debt from his trip through the North West
Passage and knew if there were to be any chance of repaying his debtors, a
spectacular triumph would be needed.
 8

Once the news had gotten through that the North Pole had fallen to Cook, then
Peary, promises were taken back and contracts torn up. Had Amundsen
sought to finance the expedition North himself, it would have meant
bankruptcy and effectively ended his career as an explorer. And if the
Norwegian government had gotten wind of his aim to take the South Pole
instead of the North, they may have repossessed the ship, since the money
given for one purpose had been used for another.

On the morning of September 6th 1910, Fram arrived near the Island at
Madeira (off the coast of Casablanca), and anchored in Funchal Roads for
repairs. Safeguards were finally completed on September 9th. It was then that
Amundsen sprang his surprise and finally told his crew the expedition’s true
aim. All hands were called on deck. Amundsen had a map of the Antarctic
unfurled and hung on the mainmast as he spoke to the crew. Fortunately, Lt.
Frederick Gjertsen had the presence of mind to put down Amundsen’s exact
words as the great secret was disclosed.

There are many things on board which you have regarded with
mistrustful or astonished eyes, for example the observation house and all
the dogs…what I will say is this—it is my intention to sail Southwards,
land a party on the Southern continent, and try to reach the South Pole
(Huntford, 1979: 286).

At first there was a hush, broken only by the sound of the creaking Fram
pulling on her anchor chain. Most of the men stood stunned. Oscar Wisting,
who was one of the crew with Amundsen on the North West Passage, later
wrote of the occasion: “[Amundsen] used ‘we’ and ‘ours’ … it was not his
expedition but ours; we were all companions and all had the same common
goal.” In the end, the entire crew agreed to go. Writing in the third person,
Amundsen entered these notes in his journals: “With men like these I don’t
think Amundsen will deserve any credit for reaching the Pole. He ought to be
thrashed if he doesn’t” (Amundsen, 1912).

This is the symbolic turning point of the first act. Instead of going north, as
planned, Amundsen turned in the opposite direction—to take a prize he and the
crew of the Fram might then leverage to support their northern journey as well.
Despite the straightforwardness of his message, this was a moment of crisis for
the Norwegian captain. In short concise sentences—straight to the point—
Amundsen explained how he had deceived them and why, using roughly the
same argument he had in his letter to Dr. Nansen. He spoke prosaically,
underplaying the emotion. He denied this was so much a change in plan as
merely an extended detour.
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Creating a Vision of What is Possible

Leaders must appeal to the identities—individual and collective—of every one

on board. It is through dramatic narratives such as these that leaders raise
followers to the status of communicants—whom together form goals and
commitments in their collective hearts and minds. By creating a vision of what
is possible to achieve, leaders and followers can become collaborators in
potential turnaround changes of great magnitude and significance.

Take today. U.S. President Barrack Obama knows that a successful

presentation is primarily about his rhetorical relationship with his audience.
Thus he also employs the words “you” and “we” frequently. And in doing so
makes his audience feel valued and included. For example, in his
congratulatory remarks (posted on the Internet), after his big win in the
Democratic primary election in the state of Iowa, he said: “On this January
night—at this defining moment in history—you have done what the cynics said
we couldn’t do. You have done what the state of New Hampshire can do in five
days. You have done what America can do in this New Year, 2008.” Here he
showed respect for his listeners, included them, made them feel special, and
presented them with a sense of momentum in their campaign (italics ours).

On board Fram, Amundsen continued to explain to his crew that their success
in the South would be a question of more than simply beating the British to the
finishing post. The winners were not necessarily those who won the race, he
said, but those who got the headlines first. Another counterstory. Everyone
knew that the Norwegians were better skiers than the Englishmen, he told
them.

Illustrating his points on the map like some professor at the blackboard,
Amundsen candidly revealed his plan for winning the race to the South Pole
and for coming out alive with the news. Reminiscent of Shakespeare’s Henry
V’s speech at the battle of Agincourt, he ended by saying that anyone who
wanted to could leave with passage paid home. The choice was theirs. Then
came the stone cold moment when each individual was asked, one by one, if he
would agree to this new plan. Members of the crew had precisely defined roles
to play, he told them, before giving them one hour in which to write their
letters.

Sharing responsibility means having responsibility to determine for oneself what

personal attitude to take toward particular crisis events. Amundsen was
consistent in exercising consensus and seeking to persuade rather than control. In
fact, he was often heard to remark something akin to this: “I think this blizzard
may lift and that we should go. I won’t insist. If there is one voice against it,
we stay put” (Griffith, 1985).
 10

For The Last Place on Earth film adaptation of Roland Huntford’s historical
biography of Scott and Amundsen, director Ferdinand Fairfax and
screenwriter Trevor Griffith relied heavily on the journal entries of several of
the men who stood on deck that day, as well as details from a letter Amundsen
had sent to Fridtjof Nansen. In it, Amundsen explains how, once the news that
the North Pole had fallen; he was forced to revise his goals. Rather than giving
up his Northern ambitions, Amundsen recognized that he had to rouse public
interest in a “Race to the South Pole,” if he were to realize his overall aims. In
closing he said:

From Madeira we set our course Southwards…Where we will go

ashore down there, I have not yet decided, but it is my intention not to
dog the Englishmen’s footsteps (Huntford, 1979: 282).

The use of counterstory declares, ‘We are who we are, not them.’ And the notion
that ‘the prize will be ours, not theirs’ punctuates the competitive spirit assigned
to this dramatic turning point. The Norwegian newspapers were gracious in
allowing Amundsen to speak directly to the public at large:

Fram sets her course South for the Antarctic Regions to take part in the
fight for the South Pole. At first glance this will appear to many to be a
change in the original plan…however…[It] is only an extension of the
Expedition’s plan; not an alteration. Alone I have taken this decision;
alone I bear the responsibility (Huntford, 1979: 305).

In his journal, Amundsen wrote of this particular turnabout:

Not many words were needed before everyone could see where the
wind lay…I briefly explained the extended plan, as well as my reasons
for keeping it secret until this time. Now and again I had to glance at
their faces. At first, as might be expected, they showed the most
unmistakable signs of surprise; but this expression swiftly changed, and
before I had finished they were all bright with smiles. I was now sure of
the answer I should get when I finally asked each man whether he was
willing to go on, and as the names were called, every single man had his
“Yes” ready (Amundsen, 1912: I: 129-130).

The commitment to freedom of choice and consensus appears with a question. “Who is
coming?” Amundsen asked. And all responded. Amundsen knew to address
each individual’s sense of identity in the group—as well as help each of the
crew to frame future options for themselves. Not only is all action dressed in
rhetoric but according to Harvard Business School professors Robert Eccles
and Nitin Nohira, rhetoric itself is a kind of organizational action. In their
view, leaders use words to frame a particular picture of the world—allowing for
the situation and identities of the participants (Eccles & Nohira, 1992: 43).
This model of leadership makes out that the primary motivation of each person
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in the organization is to discover and establish one’s own unique identity in the
undertaking.

Amundsen could see that the men were suspicious—so he came clean—and let
them know clearly what was happening now, as well as what was likely to
happen in future. Emphasizing what their personal options were allowed the
crew to focus on how to help the expedition, rather than obsess over any
lingering doubts or concerns. Finally, in keeping step toward a common aim,
the crew of the Fram set sail for a landing on the southern continent of
Antarctica.

Challenging a Commitment to Excellence

The sun had disappeared and the dark southern winter set in; Amundsen
wanted to celebrate the equinox in style. Demonstrating a positive attitude in
the face of the crisis and turning points inspires faith, so Roald Amundsen was
careful on such occasions as the mid-winter break in Antarctica—at the
Norwegian base camp ‘Framheim,’ in the Bay of Whales—to dramatize small
victories and celebrate them as ritual events. Such optimism creates energy and
allows us to mark our progress each step of the way.

In the film version of The Last Place on Earth, the character of Adolph
Lindstrom, the expedition cook and Amundsen’s closest confidant on the trip, is
depicted having prepared a white-glazed cake in the form of the Ross Ice
Barrier and Polar Plateau. The cake provides a vivid symbolic image of their
journey up the Transantarctic glaciers, and on to the Pole. Amundsen used the
occasion to create a vision of what was possible for them all to achieve.
Amundsen was also careful to insert the counterstory of their British rivals into
the mix—reminding his men that they were in a competitive race, and should
take nothing for granted.

“We have given ourselves a chance…just as long as we do this winter’s work

properly,” Amundsen explained, “and just-in-time, so that we can leave at the
earliest possible date in September.” “That soon, do you think?” came the
challenge. “I do,” responded Amundsen, “the Fram can only return for a week
or two before the ice freezes her in. There is no use taking the Pole if we can’t
get out with the news. So,” he added—taking up a tiny paper Norwegian flag
stuck on a toothpick and planting it firmly into the cake, precisely at the point
designated the South Pole—“we must be here by Christmas.”

Challenging a commitment to excellence is part and parcel of the envisioning

process. In this speech, Amundsen was quick to reinforce the competitive
counterstory. “The British are already here,” he said, “and they have maybe one,
or two, motor tractors on terra firma—just in case anyone was discounting them
from our reckoning.” Amundsen mentions the obstacles and doesn’t hide the
 12

risks. “Besides,” he reminds them again, “there’s no use in taking the Pole if we
can’t get the word out” (Griffith, 1985).

Amundsen was worried too that there was a crisis of command stirring in his
own camp. Veteran Arctic explorer, Hjalmar Johansen’s dormant challenge to
Amundsen’s experience and credibility was a troubling and constant concern.
Johansen considered himself a more experienced Polar traveler. He made this
plain by correcting and even contradicting his Captain’s authority—which
Amundsen saw as a deliberate affront to his leadership. There appeared to be a
crisis brewing between these two seasoned men, which would before long
explode at the turning point of the second act.

At Framheim, the Norwegians were camped for one year prior to the final
assault on the Pole. They made their preparations in the warmest seasons—
laying out depots of provisions along the hundreds of miles of Ice Barrier—
knowing full well the weight they would have to bear on the long haul to the
Pole and back next summer. Everyone in the expedition had vital primary, as
well as secondary-supportive, roles to play in establishing a team environment.
Amundsen thought this alignment of expertise would permit the group to
function as a “little Republic,” instead of having individual specialists
occasionally working at cross-purposes.

Amundsen’s concerns over the dangers of being beaten to the post by the
British were often expressed in the form of comparisons with their competitors.
For example, on July 11th 1910, Amundsen entered in his diary:

The English have loudly and openly told the world that skis and dogs
are unusable in these regions and that fur clothes are rubbish…but
when people decide to attack the methods which have brought the
Norwegians into the leader class as polar explorers…one must be
allowed…to show the world that it is not only luck that brought us
through with the help of such means, but calculation and understanding
of how to use them (Huntford, 1979: 375).

A situation of crisis exists when familiar routines, identities, values and

attitudes are laid open to question. A crisis is an opportunity to change things
about organization that need changing but that weren’t challenged before.
Thus, this is a chance to introduce structured identity stories, rather than going
off in all directions without rhyme or reason. Crisis leadership is a time to focus
attention. A crisis is a tipping point as well as a turning point. And another crisis
was soon about to happen.
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False Start

By the end of August, just a week to the start of the final Polar assault, the
temperature sunk to below 55 degrees of frost (Celsius). On Friday,
September 8th 1911, the Norwegians left their base at Framheim heading south.
Then the cold weather counter-attacked. By Monday, less than 40 miles out on
the Barrier, the thermometer sank to minus 60 degrees. The winds were
gusting to 90 mph and the men had to build Inuit-style igloos to wait out the
storm. The next day the liquid in the compasses froze solid. Amundsen put the
decision to his men and, using consensus to reach all decisions on key matters,
was persuaded by the moral authority of his comrades to retreat.

At the point of exhaustion, and after 12 continuous hours of merciless struggle

against the cold and wind, all the men arrived back safely to Framheim. Five of
the dogs had died and most of the men were blistered and frostbitten. Hjalmar
Johansen flared up bitterly and rebuked Amundsen for allowing him to become
separated from his followers. “I don’t call it an expedition,” he said, “it’s
panic!” And he launched into a prolonged tirade against Amundsen’s entire
leadership (Huntford, 1979: 393). At breakfast the next morning, most of the
men agreed that Amundsen’s idea of starting so early for the Pole had been a
mistake, but they withdrew at open rebellion. Amundsen later wrote that this
was perhaps the worst crisis of his entire career as an explorer—having his
leadership openly challenged at such a crucial moment.

Amundsen’s immediate problem was to marginalize Johansen’s reproach. He

began by affecting to leave the rival explorer’s outburst unanswered.
Amundsen returned to the matter over coffee the next day, explaining that
there was to be no question of taking Johansen with them to the Pole. Instead,
he ordered Johansen to join Kristan Prestrud and Jorgen Stubberud, on a
subsidiary expedition to the east toward King Edward VII Land. Only Roald
Amundsen, Helmer Hanssen, Sverre Hassel, Oscar Wisting, and Olav
Bjaaland were to share the honour of planting the Norwegian flag at the South
Pole. Johansen strenuously objected to his demotion, of course, but
Amundsen’s decision would stand.

Later that evening, Amundsen called the men one at a time into the kitchen
where, under pledge of secrecy, he got a declaration of loyalty and a
commitment to accept his judgment come what may. In his diary, Amundsen
defended his actions by reminding himself that, despite the fiasco of their false
start on the Ice Barrier, the Norwegians had gotten their food and fuel supplies
up to their depot at 80 degrees latitude. Although the false start had set them
back by three weeks, the Norwegian team actually profited by the delay.

The retreat had exposed certain weaknesses in their equipment and these were
subsequently corrected during their second layover at Framheim. In fact, these
 14

improvements proved to be a significant contributing factor in the overall

success of the expedition. For example, the ski boots, which early on proved to
be too stiff in the extreme cold, went through four generations of inventive
mutations, until they were supple and spacious enough to prevent frostbite.
The carpenters were also able to plane down the weight of the sledges from 150
to 48 pounds, without sacrificing strength or durability. In all, the Norwegian’s
confidence in themselves, their dogs, and their equipment only increased as a
result of this chilling early fiasco.

The New Furthest South

Once the Norwegians were up through the mountain climb and on to the
unbroken plane of the Antarctic Ice Cap, a whiteout enveloped the forerunners
in thick fog and snowfall. Amundsen dismissed this difficulty with the remark,
“Traveled completely blind…nonetheless we have done our daily 20 miles past
the 88th parallel.” The Norwegians did not lay the usual depot, but wanted to
first break Ernest Shackleton’s record and get within 97 miles of the Pole. On
December 8th Amundsen, who was leading, turned to hear a hearty cheer from
his men. There was no gloating over a fallen rival. Amundsen’s admiration for
Shackleton’s bravery was illimitable. However, as he came to the end of the
race that had begun 16,000 miles behind on the fjord outside his home, the
sensation he felt was now “bittersweet.” In his diary, Amundsen wrote:

I find it impossible to express the feelings that possessed me at this

moment…88 degrees 23 minutes was past; we were farther south than
any human being had been. No other moment of the whole trip affected
me like this…We all shook hands, with mutual congratulations; we had
won our way far by holding together, and we would go farther yet—to
the end.

We did not pass that spot without according our highest tribute of
admiration to the man, who—together with his gallant companions—
had planted his country’s flag so infinitely nearer to the goal than any of
his precursors. Sir Ernest Shackleton’s name will always be written in
the annals of Antarctic exploration in letters of fire (Amundsen, 1912:
II: 114).

This is a significant feature of Amundsen’s rhetoric—the planting of the flag—

another symbolic turning point and competitive tribute to one’s rivals. The
everlasting theme of triumph over adversity is once again played out on a world
stage. “The formidable challenge confronting the visionary leader,” writes
Howard Gardner, “is to offer a story, and an embodiment, that builds on the
most credible of past syntheses, revisits them in the light of present concerns,
leaves open a place for future events, and allows individual contributions by
persons in the group” (Gardner, 1995: 56).
 15

Accordingly, innovative leaders take a story that has been latent in the
audience, and bring a new twist to those themes that have already existed, but
had been neglected over time. Leaders tell stories about themselves, the groups
to which they belong, where they were coming from, where they were headed,
and about what was to be struggled against and dreamed about (Gardner,
1995: 14). The way to get change in an organization is the same way you get
growth in an individual—by having a new kind of narrative that serves to focus
and crystallize meanings for all involved.

The Race Won

On December 15th 1911, Helmar Hanssen, who was as usual leading with his
non-magnetic sledge and compass, called back for Amundsen to go up into the
lead, with an estimated eight miles to go to the Pole. Hanssen had no wish to
be first to the Pole. That honor belonged to the leader of the expedition. “I can
hear the axle creaking,” remarked an excited Olav Bjaaland. At three o’clock
p.m. the men cried, “Halt!” and they all shook hands.

Each man took part in the act of planting the Norwegian flag. “It was not,”
said Amundsen, “the privilege of one man, it was the privilege of all those who
risked their lives…Thus we plant thee, beloved Flag, at the South Pole, and
give the plain on which it lies the name King Haakon VII’s Plateau.” Later he
reflected:

I had decided that we would all take part in the historic event; the act
itself of planting the flag…It was the only way I could show my
companions my gratitude here at this desolate and forlorn place…Five
roughened, frostbitten fists it was that gripped the post, lifted the
fluttering flag on high and planted it together as the very first at the
Geographic South Pole. [One] soon gets out of the habit of protracted
ceremonies in those regions (Amundsen, 1912: II: 122).

This is the ultimate turning point in this identity story. Standing at the geographic
South Pole all directions face north. The north is on every horizon. The sun
appears to revolve directly overhead and never sets. And here the image of five
roughened, frostbitten fists planting the flag together reinforces the symbolic
significance of the event. Yet, no sooner had the ceremony ended; Amundsen
quickly reminded everyone of the counterstory, “Comrades, this is a cold place.
And we have much work to do before we rest” (Griffith, 1985). Then they set
about making camp.

After a few hours sleep, the men put about making certain of the Pole. When
the position was fixed, they set out to “box” the Pole and make absolutely
certain of their contention. All four navigators—all but ski champion Olav
Bjaaland—countersigned each other’s navigation books. This was by
implication a rebuke to Cook and Peary, who had only themselves to prove
 16

their prior claims to the North Pole. The Norwegians left a tent, some
discarded equipment, letters for Norwegian King Haakon, and one addressed
to Robert Falcon Scott who, as Amundsen remarked, “I must assume will be
first to visit the place after us,” asking him to forward his letter for his Majesty.
Amundsen could not know that the British were still struggling over 300 miles
and more than a month behind.

Dear Captain Scott,

As you probably are the first to reach this area after us, I will ask you
kindly to forward this letter to King Haakon VII. If you can use any of
the articles left in the tent please do not hesitate to do so. With kind
regards I wish you a safe return.
Yours truly,
Roald Amundsen

Again, in his narrative, Amundsen wrote:

The goal was reached, the journey ended. I cannot say—though I know
it would sound much more effective—that the object of my life was
attained. I had better be honest and admit straight out that I have never
known any man to be placed in such a diametrically opposite position to
the goal of his desires as I was at that moment. The regions around the
North Pole—well, yes, the North Pole itself—had attracted me from
childhood, and here I was at the South Pole. Can anything more topsy-
turvy be imagined? (Amundsen, 1912: II: 121).

Amundsen’s personal identity story expresses his paradoxical attitude towards

his own achievement. He has become his own counterstory. He feels the
excitement of having reached his goal, but also the irony. This precise moment
of triumph is a re-turning point toward his next beckoning—the North Pole—his
dream since childhood. Privately, Amundsen wrote, “Nothing except a battle
lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won…Can anything more perverse be
conceived? I believe no human being has stood so diametrically opposed to the
goal of his wishes as I did on that occasion (Amundsen, 1928). The explorer
still had unfinished business, at the opposite end of the world.

Turning Points and Tumbling Horizons

The rhetoric of leadership requires that leaders continually point the way ahead
to the next horizon. And as each new horizon appears, the goal itself continues
to tumble away from view. The Norwegians had arrived at the South Pole
healthy and in good spirits. They had extra fuel and plenty of food for men and
dogs left over. They could not know the comparatively dire circumstances
faced by their British rivals in this regard. Scott and his men were more than a
month behind the Norwegians. When asked what they should do with the
 17

surplus food and fuel, Amundsen decided to take it with them, reasoning that
they might still need it to get back.

Speaking from the mathematical end of the Earth, Amundsen voiced another
reminder to his men—that they hadn’t won the race until they’d gotten back
first with the news. The challenge of each leadership identity story remains in
perpetual motion, with each counterstory, in a never-ending fluidity of
challenge and response. For example, in the screenplay dialogue at the Pole
includes the following statement by Amundsen:

For those who think we have already won, let me say this: the British
will be here, perhaps soon. They don’t give up easily. And, if we should
make the mistake of letting them reach the telegraph first, the issue of
priority might become quite confused. And…. we still have business at
the other end of the earth, remember? We are a long way from home.
Shall we go? (Griffith, 1985).

There is a crucial element of urgency embedded in all turning point stories.

Rhetoric at significant turning points indicates that—whatever our
achievements in overcoming obstacles may have been to date—leaders are
obligated to show the way ahead to challenges appearing beyond new horizons.
Amundsen is in effect saying, “Despite our advantage, should we make the
mistake of letting our competitors beat us to the claim, we have not won.” No
matter what the team achieved at any juncture, Amundsen was sure to say,
“And now our work begins in earnest.” Without the imperative challenge to
competitive excellence, organizational leadership would cease to exist at the
point of our last accomplishment—rendering us without goals and aims for the
future.

The Devil’s Glacier

It was on the return route through the Transantarctic Mountains that the final
act begins. The Norwegians knew where they were headed, but not where they
were exactly. This was a serious state of affairs, because their next depot lay at
the edge of Devil’s Glacier. The terrain they referred to as “the devil’s
ballroom,” was broken by tumbling ice falls that cut off a proper view of their
surroundings. The Norwegians were quite lost and, rather than thrash about
for a depot of dog carcasses they might not find, the men agreed by consensus
to head straight for the Ice Barrier as quickly as they could. They had food and
fuel enough in reserve for the men, but were drastically short of food for their
dogs. Then somebody recognized the ridge; the team got their bearings,
reached the depot, and loaded their sledge for home.
 18

Now, with the wind at their backs, the Barrier became a racecourse. With
lighter loads the Norwegians quickened their pace and arrived at Framheim two
weeks earlier than expected, after a total journey of 1860 miles in just 99 days.
Amundsen’s men now grasped the value of his planning and foresight. On
Friday, January 26th 1912, the men and dogs careered down across the ice of
the Bay of Whales to Framheim, ‘the home of the Fram.’

“Good morning, my dear Lindstrom,” said Amundsen as he stepped inside.

“Have you any coffee for us?” All Adolf Lindstrom could say at first was,
“Good God, is it you?” Someone else finally put the question: “Have you been
there?” “Yes, we’ve been there,” was the terse reply. Amundsen made another
short speech on this occasion. Once again, he thanked everyone for work well
done, and said, “We haven’t got much to tell in the way of privation or great
struggle. The whole thing went like a dream.” Not one to dwell on what’s
already past, he knew the race was not won until they had gotten through first
with the news. “Time is precious,” he wrote, “and we’ve got to reach
civilization before anything else.”

On January 30th the Norwegians shut the door to their hut for the very last
time and put to sea. On March 7th the Tasmanian coast was finally raised and
Fram anchored in Hobart. A little knot of spectators had gathered on the
waterfront, and Amundsen went ashore alone to the telegraph. “Treated as a
tramp,” the explorer noted in his diary. Amundsen and his crew had arrived in
Tasmania and announced to the world that they had reached the South Pole,
and returned safely from the journey. In actual fact, the Norwegians were
fitter and stronger than they had been when they first stepped on to the
Southern continent. And thus ended the last classic journey of terrestrial
discovery—before the extraterrestrial journeys to the Moon.

The Race Lost

Thirty-four days after the Norwegians cantered up to the Pole with their dogs,
the British team discovered the Norwegian flags and dog tracks. By this time
(January 17, 1912), Scott and his companions were suffering from both
physical and mental distress. Lt. Lawrence Oates’ feet had turned gangrenous
from frostbite, and the British were almost certainly in the throes of scurvy-
driven madness and fatigue. Petty Officer Edgar Evans died on February 16th
and Lt. Oates committed suicide on March 21st.

Of the three men remaining, Captain Robert Falcon Scott, Dr. Edward Wilson,
and Lt. Henry Bowers, came to within 11 miles of One Ton Depot. With their
supplies almost completely gone and their camp buried in a fierce blizzard, they
lay in their tent for nine days until the last of their food and fuel gave out on
March 30, 1912. They had carried 30 pounds of scientific rock samples with
 19

them from their discoveries. The same amount of seal meat might have saved
them from disaster.

Rhetoric of the Explorer

The many uses of dramatic history and the rhetoric of leadership are not only
subjects of interest to historians and philosophers—they concern us all.
Turning point identity stories are relevant at the cutting edge of exploration in
any business, government, industry, or institution. This is the reason why we
study the rhetoric of leadership—so we might reexamine our habits of mind
and reevaluate our primary assumptions about the nature of human enterprise
in all its forms.

All leadership involves the dramatic use of rhetoric to carry the weight of
meaning beyond the words themselves. Every organization has its own
narrative patterns for understanding dramatic action. We believe it is
important that leaders and followers adopt a rhetorical stance to get things
done in organizations. We begin our approach by appreciating the immense—
yet mysteriously invisible—power that dramatically structured forms of identity
stories and counterstories can have in shaping our lives and institutions.

In review, we see how Roald Amundsen’s rhetorical action contributed to his

discovery of the South Pole. During times of crisis, Amundsen reinforced a
vision of what is possible and a challenged a commitment to competitive
excellence.

In terms of dramatically structured identity stories, Amundsen embodied the values,

goals, attitudes, and identification with a long line of Polar antecedents.

In terms of symbolically presenting turning points, Amundsen effectively utilized

rhetorical themes, rituals, and symbols of dramatic significance to his audience.
He was able to take a story that had been latent in the Viking traditions of
leadership and exploration and leveraged that into identity stories his followers
could accept.

Having instituted a commitment to freedom of choice and consensus, Amundsen

provided for leadership throughout the ranks—encouraging team morale and
inspiring confidence.

Lastly, Amundsen consistently challenged his companions with competitive

counterstories—to remind his team of the mutual obligation and dedication they
must have to ensure success.

Dramatic narrative approaches to reexamining the lives of great explorers in

history are just some of the ways we can meaningfully review, and renew, our
 20

views and actions about organizational leadership. There is always a new

adventure on every horizon. We study the rhetoric of leadership and the
dramatic structure of organizational life—not for the sake of finding any
definitive answers—but in order to broaden our conception of what is possible,
sharpen our aim, and enrich our imagination.

Notes

1
The title of the book, The Last Place on Earth, by biographer Roland Huntford (and
film by director Ferdinand Fairfax), was named for the fact that in 1911, the South
Pole was the last geographical place on Earth to be discovered.
2
Amundsen and his team reached the South Pole on December 15th 1911, and
returned safely. Scott and his team reached the Pole a month later, on January 17th,
1912, but perished on their return. The last of the British cohort died in their tent just
11 miles short of “One Ton” depot of food and fuel which, if it had been placed where
it was originally intended, would have approximated the point at which they starved to
death in a blizzard, still hundreds of miles from their base camp in McMurdo Sound.

3The terms ‘identity story’ and ‘counterstory’ were introduced by Harvard professor,
Howard Gardner, and explained in detail in his book, Leading Minds, 1995.

4 Both Frederick Cook and Robert Peary’s timetables raise serious doubts about
either claim. Furthermore, even American Admiral Richard Byrd’s claim to have
reached the North Pole by aircraft on May 9, 1926 has its detractors. According to
newly uncovered records from his flight discovered in the mid-1980s, an oil leak in one
of his engines forced Byrd to turn back 150 miles short of his target. Thus, the true
record once again goes to Roald Amundsen, who floated over the North Pole in the
airship Norge three days after Byrd’s failed attempt. Roald Amundsen—first person to
both Poles.

5 Ernest Shackleton’s southern party was composed of Jameson Adams, Eric

Marshall, and Frank Wild. This team of four Englishmen began on October 29th,
1908, with four sledges, four ponies, and provisions for 91 days. On November 26th
Scott’s farthest south, 82 degrees 17 minutes, was surpassed. By the time latitude 84
degrees was reached, the ponies were dead, and the men had to man-haul their sledges
the rest of the way. On January 9, 1909, having run short of provisions, they were
compelled to turn north, having planted Queen Alexandra’s flag in latitude 88 degrees
23 minutes, longitude 162 degrees East.

6 The Panama Canal was not yet open one hundred years ago, and so the route to the
North Pole or the South, meant going round South America first. If one were to
attempt going north to the Pole from Europe, the ice pack and Arctic currents would
carry you away from your target, not towards it.
 21

References

Amundsen, R. (1912) First published and translated from the Norwegian by A.G.
Chater. The South Pole. London: John Murray; New York: New York University
Press, 2001.

Amundsen, R. (1928) My Life as an Explorer. New York: Doubleday.

Eccles, R. and Nohira, N. (1992) Beyond the Hype: Rediscovering the Essence of Management.
Cambridge: Harvard Business School Press.

Gardner, H. (1995) Leading Minds. New York: Basic Books.

Griffith, T. (1995) The Last Place on Earth (Motion Picture Screenplay). London:
Renegade Productions.

Huntford, R. (1979) The Last Place on Earth. New York: The Modern Library.

Morrell, K. (2006) “Aphorisms and Leaders’ Rhetoric: A New Analytical Approach.”

London: Sage Publications, Vol 2 (3): 367-382.

Van Maanen, J. (1995) “Representation in Ethnography,” Social Science.