Rebecca Wilson

March 4, 2004

Donkeys and Lions: Scott and Amundsen as Leaders and Men

            What sane person turns their back on comfort and security, risking life and limb to explore the unknown and hostile environment of Antarctica?  More specifically, what kind of man is so seized with this daft notion that he wants to lead an expedition to such an unforgiving wilderness?  Captain Robert Falcon Scott and Roald Amundsen left for the South Pole at about the same time.  Both were Europeans, and both had prior Polar experience.  Both had a vast store of literature upon which to draw, from the older works of Sir Frederick Ross and Fridtjof Nansen to the recent work of Sir Ernest Shackleton.  Their Antarctic journeys, and British reaction to them, were poles apart in almost every aspect.  Why is this so?  These two men have almost nothing in common, except their goal of being the first man to reach the South Pole -- from motivation to background to leadership style, they share very little.  When Scott arrives at the South Pole he discovers that “Poe was right.  There is something at the South Pole.  It is a Norwegian flag.” (Spufford 319).  And yet, to the English-speaking world, Scott is portrayed as a romantic hero while Amundsen is at best overlooked.

            In “Amundsen versus Scott: Why is Scott Considered a Hero?” James Johnson looks objectively at Scott’s status as hero, through the lens of modern perspective.  Johnson concentrates primarily on Amundsen’s vastly superior preparation and equipment; there is enough information in this arena to support several hundred pages of text.  Roland Huntford’s The Last Place on Earth probably spends more than 100 pages discussing technology and technique.  Johnson questions Scott’s reputation as a hero based on his bad decisions alone, while still finding the stuff of heroes in the men who followed Scott, especially those who died on the final Polar journey.  Johnson argues that Scott is remembered as a hero because of Britain’s need for a national hero with the cloud of war hanging overhead, the artful excisions from Scott’s diaries for publication, and an unwillingness by the fledgling Norwegian government to upset the British government.

In my mind, Scott’s followers were victims of poor leadership, an unsuitable social structure for an exploration expedition, and an overly complex big-production expedition style that was inappropriate in such a harsh climate.  I believe that Scott’s utter failure as a leader led directly to his own death, and the deaths of Titus Oates, Birdie Bowers, Bill Wilson, and Petty Officer Edgar Evans.  If I examine specific traits fairly common to many modern leadership scorecards, how do Scott and Amundsen compare? 

Their capacity to display integrity, defined as leading through honesty and acceptance of personal responsibility, shows both departure and congruence.  Scott constantly complains about his “bad luck” with the weather or the snow surface, although Amundsen had slightly worse weather conditions.  In fact, Amundsen seldom complains about the weather, or anything else, in his own journal.  His tone is decidedly cheery throughout, which must have been a terrible affront to any Englishman who read it at the time.  However, they both lied if they deemed it necessary.  Amundsen hid his true destination from the world, his sponsors, and even his own men until he thought the time was right.  To escape his creditors, he set sail at midnight, just as he had on his previous expedition to the North Pole.  However, once Amundsen revealed his secret, he was straightforward with his followers.

The waveforms of Scott’s lies possess smaller magnitude, but much greater frequency.  On the return journey from the Pole, when he finds less rations than he expected, Scott says, “The dogs which would have been our salvation have evidently failed.  Meares had a bad trip home I suppose” (Scott 113).  Huntford attributes this miscalculation to Scott’s ever-changing orders regarding the dogs.  Rather than give a clear goal to Meares, his dog-driver, Scott gave vague and conflicting orders.  The dogs were pushed much farther south than originally planned, and Scott hastily remarked that the dogs should come “as far as they can” to meet him on the way back (Huntford 519-521).  Scott had only himself to thank if the last-minute dash to restock his supplies went awry, but it’s Meares and the dogs that bear the blame in the diary.

The two leaders show vast differences in their ability to make use of experience.  Scott’s men managed to learn almost nothing about skiing from his Norwegian ski expert, Tryggve Gran.  Through a long winter at their base camp, Scott’s men spent their time with lectures on science and culture, with no time devoted to ski techniques.  “Universitas Antarctica” was in full swing, while Amundsen’s men spent their winter improving their equipment.  Amundsen learned much from literature, and more from his own experiences.  After his series of depot journeys, when he discovered that some of the men had frostbitten toes, he ordered another redesign of their boots.  It was the fourth and final time their footwear was altered after the Fram left Norway.  This constant drive for optimization and improvement is a thread that runs through his entire journey.

The best illustration of the difference in their powers of judgment is the story of the difference in their supply margins. After Amundsen left his last supply depot, he had enough food and paraffin to reach the Pole, return to his base at Framheim, and head south again for another hundred miles – even if he missed every single supply depot on the way back.  His calculations were based on his performance so far, coupled with the anticipation of man-hauling above 86 degrees, and being tent-bound for one day out of every four due to bad weather or a need to rest.  Scott had no margin of safety in food or fuel.  Missing any one of his poorly-marked supply depots would result in starvation and death (Huntford 416).

The ability to face problems head-on is another striking difference in the two men.  When he finally admits to himself that his ponies are starving, Scott does not give in to Oates’ suggestion to shoot them and leave horsemeat at their last supply depot.  On the return journey, Oates is forced to use a pickaxe to kill a starving pony who has fallen through the ice, a grisly business that yields no benefit for the men and little for the pony.  Amundsen has the courage to admit the truth, to his journal and to himself.  When they shoot their sledge dogs at the Butcher’s Shop, he admits that it seems a mean reward for such a faithful servant.  They did not yield to the mawkish sentimentality that typified Scott.  Scott is regarded as “humane” for his attitude that it was cruel to make dogs pull sledges, but he thought nothing of making men perform a task the Norwegians considered with horror.  Though the Norwegians thought that man-hauling was both barbaric and stupidly inefficient, they were prepared to survive doing exactly that for countless miles.

Amundsen possessed the ability to accomplish results through others by getting them to work together.  Framheim, their base camp, showed the innovations of several of his men.  When they got snowed in while inside the cabin, they considered clearing away the snow.  Instead, one of the men suggested building tunnels and snow caves, which they used as workshops.   Lindstrom, the cook, built a tunnel around the entire cabin, cutting shelves in the ice for provisions.  Working together, they increased their comfort level in a matter of days.  The social stratification of Scott’s party was evident from their hut alone.  Scott slept in a private space, behind a barrier of packing cases.  Another barrier separated the Naval officers and scientists from the lowly enlisted men.  Oates, a no-nonsense Dragoon captain, mentions how he kept his opinions to himself rather than antagonize Scott.

Amundsen also shares rewards and responsibilities with the group, the hallmark of collaboration.  When one of his men has a good idea, it is adopted without hesitation.  He always uses the man best suited to the task.  During the Polar dash, Amundsen fired himself as the leader of the procession, since Bjaaland did a much better job of keeping on course, and skied faster as well.  Bjaaland gives the dogs a target to follow in the featureless terrain; the dogs run willingly, seldom needing whips to force them to work. Helmer Hanssen drives the lead sledge because he is the best dog-driver.  Amundsen brings up the rear, since he is the worst dog-driver of the lot.  It falls to him to keep a lookout for articles that have fallen off of the other sledges.  Scott implies that Titus Oates is responsible for their slow progress on the return journey, after he discovers how badly Oates feet have become frostbitten.  To him, Oates’ painful debilitating condition is apparently the result of a personal failing, rather than a case of inadequate clothing.

Amundsen listened to his experts, while Scott ignored what little advice he received from his own men.  Atkinson, a Naval surgeon, must have known that they would suffer from starvation and scurvy due to man-hauling on an inadequate diet.  Scott’s Winter Journey to lay his supply depots should have ample evidence.  Since Scott regarded criticism as bordering on mutiny, Atkinson held his tongue (Huntford 462).

Another striking difference was their ability to inspire others, and attract others to their cause.  Scott’s party was practically conscripted.  His combination of British officers and enlisted men had little choice in their assignment.  His funding was obtained through a combination of political influence and the machinations of his beautiful wife, Kathleen.  Amundsen convinced his men to follow him not once, but twice.  When the Fram left Norway, only three people on board knew their true destination.  After it was finally revealed, each man was given an opportunity to leave the ship and return to Norway.  They all knew that Amundsen had lied to them about their actual destination, but they followed him to Antarctica anyway.

Amundsen fares pretty well on a scorecard of leadership traits, while Scott pales in comparison.  Considering their background this shouldn’t be too surprising.  As a Naval officer in peacetime, Scott was granted formal authority in the rigid social structure of the British Royal Navy.  In an atmosphere where obedience is more valuable than innovation, Scott’s formal authority would be enough to have his orders followed.   Scott excelled at technical tasks, but his superiors constantly expressed doubt in his leadership skills.  Amundsen’s family of sailors and ship-builders could only survive as leaders, since their sailing crews could always find another ship if they lost confidence in their captain.  Amundsen progressed through the ranks of the Norway’s mercantile sailors, working on small sealing and whaling ships.  This culture, based on a common desire for efficiency and profit, was a completely different atmosphere than life amid the mightiest navy on the planet.

Their vastly different backgrounds also help to explain the disparate structure of their expedition parties.  Scott explored British-style, with hordes of men and a frightening lack of preparation.  He behaved as if British improvisation would be enough to see them through any difficulty.  Scott’s party exhibited the rigid, heavily classed society of the British Navy.  Amundsen’s party was much smaller and more specialized, as was his ship.  Amundsen hired experts, and fostered relationships of mutual respect.  This mutual respect served him well in a hostile environment where all men in the group depend upon one another.

Both men learned lessons from their famous, powerful mentors.  Sir Markham Clements convinced Scott that dogs and skis would be useless, and Scott never truly believed the evidence of his own eyes.  It was Clements who glorified the alleged virtues of man-hauling, as if that would prove that Britain was a strong nation, not an empire in decline.  Scott and his wife, with Clements working behind the scenes, used political influence to procure funding.  Amundsen used Nansen sledges, named in honor of his mentor, Fridtjof Nansen.  He learned that dogs and skis were perfectly suited for the Polar wastes.  And, from the time he dropped out of medical school, Amundsen spent his entire life in a series of experiences designed to prepare him for Polar exploration.  He learned much about dog-driving, sledge construction, and clothing construction wherever he went, from Greenland to Alaska. He spent years preparing himself to become a successful Polar explorer.

Though the two leaders seemed to share the same objective, they really didn’t.  Scott, a peacetime Naval officer, sought career advancement.  With no convenient battles, Polar exploration was considered an excellent proving ground for young Naval officers.  His Polar journey was a means to an end.  Amundsen’s primary objective was to be the first man to reach the North Pole.  When he discovered that Peary and Cook had apparently beaten him to the prize, he turned south as a sort of consolation.  It is ironic that neither man achieved his primary objective.

By modern standards, Amundsen was an admirable leader, and Scott simply wasn’t.  Because of his leadership skills, and the personal qualities that comprise these attitudes and behaviors, it is Roald Amundsen that I will always admire.  With only a sketchy knowledge of Amundsen’s methods and achievements, gleaned from a science-fiction novel set in Antarctica, the romanticized readings in Ice left me with a vast contempt for Captain Robert Falcon Scott.  I found it surprising that the decidedly unflattering portrayal in Huntford’s controversial book actually softened my hard-hearted attitude somewhat.  After all, Scott and Amundsen were both products of their experience and environment.  Scott was simply out of his depth and unable to become the leader he needed to be; he and four of his men died because of his failings.

Steeped in the NASA subcontractor culture, where absolutely nothing is more important then the life of an astronaut, the deaths of Scott’s followers, and the trials of those men who survived Scott’s colossal blunders, are the stuff of absolute horror.  Larzer Ziff’s notion of a “romantic failure” is the antithesis of the culture that surrounds modern explorers in the vacuum of space. Amundsen’s understated cheerful brilliance lends him the literary glamour of a pack mule, while Scott’s reputation as a noble British lion has been ninety years in the making.  Like Sir Ernest Shackleton, I prefer “live donkeys” to “dead lions” (Huntford 233 ).

 
Works Cited

Johnson, James. “Amundsen versus Scott: Why is Scott Considered a Hero?”

29 February 2004.  <http://coursesite/cl/uh.edu/HSH/Whitec/LITR/5738/models/2002/midterms02/mt02johnson.htm>

Huntford, Roland.  The Last Place on Earth.  New York: The Modern Library, 1999.

Scott, Robert Falcon.  “Scott’s Last Expedition: The Journals.”  Ice.  Ed. Clint Willis.  New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press, 1999.

Spufford, Francis.  “I May Be Some Time.”  Ice.  Ed. Clint Willis.  New York:  Thunder’s Mouth Press, 1999.

Ziff, Larzer.  “Arctic Exploration and the Romance of Failure.”  Raritan. 23 February 2003. 58-79.