Cannon Fodder

It’s horrifying, isn’t it, in the twenty-first century to watch a war where the primary tactic on the part of one side is to hurl live young men, in their tens of thousands, into the meat-grinder in hopes of exhausting the enemy’s supply of ammunition. That said, the tactic succeeded for the Soviets in the Second World War, and Russian military doctrine seems to be “It worked once, it will work again”.

Lest we scornfully dismiss this as evidence only of Putin’s barbarity (which it is), let’s be a little more humble. Canadian boys were sent onto the exposed beaches of Dieppe without air or naval cover, turning the waves red before the woeful exercise was called off and the few who evaded death or capture were withdrawn. Every July 1, Newfoundland remembers their dear boys sent into withering fire at the Battle of Beaumont-Hamel. Of the 780 who charged into the gates of hell, 68 remained to report for duty the next day. And who in Australia or New Zealand will ever forget or forgive Gallipoli.

And the list goes on.

But this isn’t a military history, it’s a story about failed leadership and shortsighted strategy. Amongst professional firms, the use of young recruits as cannon fodder is not unknown. Even civic projects such as Ottawa’s light rail can turn into, effectively, fiscal cannon fodder projects where the solution seems to be to throw much more good money after lots of bad. Whenever leadership is able to continue to throw somebody else’s kids or somebody else’s money into a bad situation, hoping to turn it around by sheer unthinking force, you have the cannon fodder scenario.

Pimply-faced teenagers in Russia don’t have much of a choice, unless their daddies have some influence. But young professionals in our society do have a choice. They don’t need to throw themselves into the maelstrom in hopes of surviving, being noticed, and maybe, just maybe, getting picked for bigger and better things. If there’s an available slot, that is.

As far as I know, some of the large law firms still have cubicles where articling students can catch a few winks when they fall asleep at their research desks, and where meals are sent in so they don’t have to leave their work. Not all hospitals have shed the notoriety of interns working around the clock.

Don’t get me wrong. In some professions, endurance testing is a necessary part of the weeding process. To become a member of JTF2, the Seals, or the SAS, you need to prove you are one tough nut, and to do so you need to endure seemingly impossible physical and psychological challenge. But for lawyers and doctors and other civilian professionals, having students work around the clock is not related to their proficiency, and in fact may just “weed out” some of the brightest and best, leaving only the obstinate or those with too much testosterone.

If as a young soldier you want to join JTF2, by all means, go for it. But if as a young lawyer you’re facing a year of eighteen hour days, 6.5 days a week, think again. Not only are you likely to pick up bad habits such as alcohol, tobacco, or substance dependencies, and suffer broken relationships, but you’ll come out with all the wrong ideas about the meaning of success.

Professional success doesn’t mean proving solely that you’re tough, or that you’re not a quitter (although these are useful qualities). Professional success comes from unremitting quality, not insufferable quantity. If the articling program or the internship is mostly about volume of production and little about deep learning opportunities, walk away. Remember that “intern” can refer to students, but also to prisoners. Be careful which you are.

There is only one key to professional success, and that is building your stellar reputation based upon your Giftings. Never take your eye off that, never let yourself become cannon fodder.