My first job after college and the Army was working at the Securities and Exchange Commission. During the first couple of years, I learned a lot about accounting, law, and finance. By the time I left, I probably knew enough to have been hired in the first place!

Washington in the early 1960s was an exciting place to live. John F. Kennedy was President. He called it the "New Frontier" and the magazine writers called it "Camelot." As a young lawyer at the SEC, I felt I was on the side of the angels. I was certain that the devil lived and worked on Wall Street! Feeling like God's chosen instrument and wielding the power of the U.S. Government was exhilarating. 1 was very enthusiastic and worked hard at bringing law suits for the Commission. I was even fortunate enough to be assigned to work on the first big "inside information" suit brought by the SEC, the Texas Gulf Sulphur Case.

My first job sounds like a very good experience, doesn't it? From an intellectual point of view, it was-I learned a lot. From a professional point of view, it was-I made a lot of good contacts. Unfortunately, there was a darker side to that experience. As a person, I went from being naive to being cynical. That may not sound surprising or even serious. After all, isn't the function of the `first job' to provide a practical sense of the real world? I think not. Becoming cynical is a serious infirmity. Now, I am not an advocate of retaining the naivete of a school child. On the other hand, to replace naivete with cynicism can create even greater problems.

By the time I left the SEC, I no longer felt I was on the side of the angels. I realized that the SEC could bring almost any securities firm to its knees and that the prosecutor's discretion was often exercised somewhat whimsically. I found that investors who lost money could easily be led to claim that the most outrageous promises had been made to them. After five years at the SEC, I found myself somewhat disillusioned and quite cynical about the way the business world works and very distrustful of human nature. During the next twenty years of my life, I managed to get over most of my cynicism without returning to the naivete of my youth. This has been valuable.

The problems of cynicism are many, but at least one is easy to seethe unwillingness to trust others. Not being able to trust others is fatal to the chances of success in building, managing or leading an organization.

Cynics usually believe that trusting is a serious and dangerous mistake; so they avoid trusting people. However, to be successful in an organization, you must be able to obtain the trust of others. Managers and employees who aren't trusted by their associates, are not very useful or successful. Trust is obtained in two ways: First, by being trustworthy. That, however, is not enough. Secondly, you must trust others. Trust is similar to love-it is a two-way street. No one trusts anyone who doesn't trust them. The key to building trust is to trust others. The first issue in a relationship becomes, "How can I let this person know that I can and will trust him?" To trust people requires getting over being cynical. . .without becoming naive.

If you are willing to offer your trust, you find the trust you need is usually forthcoming. Conversely, if you withhold your trust and thus are perceived as suspicious and doubting, you will frequently find that your associates will deal with you defensively. If you are their manager, they probably will lack loyalty to the organization. Taking the risky step of offering one's trust is not always rewarding. On occasion, you will be criticized for naivete. The price not withstanding, rising above cynicism to obtain the loyalty derived from mutual trust is critical to building, managing and leading an organization.

"Betrayal" sounds like a strong word for the everyday world of business, but it is not. The first time I had to fire a good friend brought the word "betrayal" in focus. The experience was probably no tougher for me than it was for anyone else, but that does not mean it was easy. (I have never had to close a plant, but I expect the experience is similar, if not more intense.) Thinking about what I was doing, I wondered if there were some limits to loyalty behind which I could hide. I wondered, "Is this `betrayal' and if so, was what I had done going to get easier with practice?"

In thinking about loyalty and betrayal in an organizational setting, you quickly realize that loyalty is necessary for an organization to survive. You also soon realize that you sometimes must place the organizations interests ahead of your personal feelings. You will be told that there has been a betrayal, and indeed, there has been one.

I have found no panacea for the remorse and guilt that I feel when I am understandably viewed as a betrayer. The only thing that seems to help is caring and letting your feelings show. It isn't pleasant to deal with the aftermath of betrayal. It may seem easier to hide behind your desk, comfortable with the justification that "I didn't want to do it, but it had to be done." In my view, along with the authority to make such decisions, goes the responsibility for sharing actively in the grief that results.

It is through dealing personally and actively with the sadness and pain you have precipitated that you can maintain trust and self-respect. Compassion is necessary to maintain the trust upon which loyalty is based. Equally important, compassion is needed for you to maintain the self-respect required for you honestly to hope for that loyalty.

The wounds incurred from youthful naivete usually lead to cynicism. I hope cynicism can be overcome by the recognition of the effectiveness and pleasures of shared trust. Shared trust builds the loyalty which an organization must have to thrive. This loyalty must sometimes be betrayed. The betrayal leads finally to compassion. The moral life cycle of building, managing, and leading an organization is not easy but, finally, it's painfully rewarding.