The
Hunt for Red October
a film by John McTiernan released through Paramount
Pictures in 1990
Remarkably good in many ways, The Hunt for Red October excels as a study in leadership. While not as single-minded of purpose as Twelve O’Clock High (1949), perhaps the definitive cinematic study of leadership, our film is far more entertaining.
Sean Connery’s
Marco Ramius is, as observed in the film, “one cool customer.” In keeping with most leaders, he’s first
distinguished by his loneliness. Ramius
lost his beloved wife just a year previous, he’s the top captain of the Soviet
Navy, and he is, at heart, still a Lithuanian in the service of a foreign
country (when he was born, in the inter-war period, Lithuania was free).
He keeps his
feelings to himself, but for three occasions, once with Jack Ryan, and twice
with his first officer. By these
confessions we learn that Ramius views the Cold War as a tragedy. In some respects, he has thrown his life
away, and he will not compound his error by allowing the stealthy Red October to fulfill its designed
purpose; this forty-year drama staged by superpowers will not be climaxed with
a missile launch from his ship.
Thus he is not
two-, but three-faced, showing one face to his crew, and another (in the dinner
scene) to his officers (which saves one for himself). But that doesn’t make him less admirable, as
leadership always demands some acting—hiding purpose, strategy, and fear—to
inspire confidence, respect, and loyalty.
In the dinner scene Ramius is, of course, far more honest with his
officers than he was with his cheery, bellicose address to the crew. But he refuses to be goaded into a verbal
fight, and as his officers panic, he remains perfectly implacable—he assesses
the likelihood of their deaths like he was handicapping a boxing match. The officers can take peace, at least, that
Ramius knows what they are up against and remains in control of himself.
Of course, he’s
also in control of them. His brilliant
decision to invoke Cortez’s burning of the ships leaves the officers with
nothing to cling to but their renegade captain.
That’s cutthroat leadership—deny your minions any other options and
they’ll stick with you, even when times are tough. Sure, they may say it’s unfair that Ramius
made these decisions—the letter and the murder—without them. But if Ramius had done so, he would no longer
be in charge. More important, no one
would have been willing to risk death for freedom. Ramius was
willing, and his men would later thank him for being their strength.
At some point
leadership stops being about manipulation and control, and it becomes a matter
of principle. Even though Ramius is a traitor
to their country, he still cares for his crew.
They are innocent and he is determined that they survive this adventure
unscathed. Even while working like the
devil to get what he wants, he remembers that these men are still his
responsibility.
More significant,
Ramius does his own dirty work. He
murders Putin, with no apparent animus, because the political officer could
have instigated a mutiny. Later in the
film, when his executive officer is killed shielding Ramius from gunfire, Ramius
goes after the KGB saboteur, himself.
It’s very dangerous, sure, but Ramius led his men into this and he did
kill in cold blood, and were it not for the sacrifice of his first officer he
would already be dead. So he fights, as
his duty.
Finally, Ramius
sent the letter not for ego, but for honor.
Apart from its possible value of signaling the Americans, the letter was
a declaration that Ramius would not just slink away. No, he would stand and declare his contempt
for the Soviet Union and challenge it, first, to reform, and second, to stop
him from defecting. He swore loyalty to
the Motherland, and by this letter, he frees himself of that oath. I am
willing to die for my convictions; therefore I deserve to be free. This is what it means to accept
responsibility, and to accept responsibility is, ultimately, what freedom is
all about.