It Worked for Me

What does it truly mean to lead with integrity—whether in war rooms, boardrooms, or everyday life? In It Worked for Me: In Life and Leadership, General Colin Powell reflects on a lifetime of lessons drawn from modest beginnings in the Bronx to his extraordinary service as a four-star general and Secretary of State. Powell’s central argument is simple but profound: leadership isn’t about power or position—it’s about character, purpose, and people.

Through dozens of stories—by turns humorous, sobering, and deeply human—Powell shows that success comes from mastering small things, caring for people before policies, and never letting fear, ego, or cynicism dictate decisions. The book is less a conventional memoir than a living workshop in leadership, offering tools and reflections that remain relevant at every career stage.

From Modest Roots to Global Leadership

Powell’s narrative begins not with medals but with mop buckets. Born to Jamaican immigrants, he grew up surrounded by the ethic that you “do your best—because someone is watching.” From unloading soda trucks to commanding troops, he learned that character and effort mattered more than background. This mindset—what he calls his father’s and mother’s Jamaican grit—anchors his leadership journey.

In the Bronx, mentors like his store boss taught him dignity in work. In the Army, older sergeants and commanders taught him humility in leadership. And in Washington, presidents from Reagan to Bush reminded him that courage, not ambition, defines service. His story mirrors the American immigrant experience: through discipline, humor, and faith, barriers can be turned into bridges. (Like James Clear’s Atomic Habits, Powell’s message is that small daily actions build remarkable lives over time.)

The Thirteen Rules for Leading and Living

Early in the book, Powell discusses his “Thirteen Rules,” a set of principles developed during his military career. These aren’t abstract commandments—they’re battle-tested reminders of psychological resilience: “It ain’t as bad as you think,” “Get mad, then get over it,” and “Perpetual optimism is a force multiplier.” Through stories ranging from Vietnam ambushes to UN diplomacy, he demonstrates that these rules are less about tactics and more about attitude.

Each rule blends military discipline with common sense empathy: leaders take the blame, share credit, and remain calm in storms. Optimism isn’t naïveté—it’s leadership energy that spreads through teams. He calls it a contagious force that multiplies courage in others, echoing Napoleon’s idea that “a leader is a dealer in hope.”

Know Yourself, Know Your People

A major section of the book centers on self-awareness and empathy. Powell’s stories—from the street sweeper who found pride in honest work to young staffers presenting to presidents—underscore that leadership starts with understanding people’s worth. “Kindness works,” he insists. Respecting the janitor and the general alike cultivates loyalty and trust. Leaders, he argues, must show up with authenticity—because followers always know when the boss is faking it.

He emphasizes mentorship as a sacred duty: good leaders build confidence in others while keeping their egos in check. His approach parallels that of Dale Carnegie or Stephen Covey, who likewise taught that influence starts with genuine regard for human dignity.

Learning, Failing, and Resilience

Throughout the book, Powell demonstrates vulnerability—admitting failure, including the infamous 2003 UN speech, without excuse. “It’s a blot,” he says candidly, yet his takeaway isn’t self-pity; it’s ownership. By studying failures like this, or smaller blunders like losing a pistol in Germany as a young officer, he models intellectual courage—the ability to face facts and move forward.

He blends leaderly strength with humble humor. He knew when to get off the train—when careers or projects had run their course—and taught others to “be gone” gracefully rather than cling to titles. To him, real success lies not in being indispensable but in preparing one’s successor.

Technology, Change, and the Constant of Humanity

Even as Powell explores the digital revolution in diplomacy, he reminds readers that new brainware doesn’t fix human blind spots. Tools may change—email replaces telegrams—but trust, candor, and responsibility remain timeless. “It’s all about people,” he writes in his afterword, echoing Admiral Rickover’s insight that organizations don’t get things done; people do. Whether commanding troops, managing crises, or raising a family, success rests on judgment, kindness, and perpetual learning.

Ultimately, It Worked for Me distills six decades of leadership into a universal truth: excellence is born from humility, preparation, and care for others. It’s a reminder that whether you lead a platoon, a classroom, or a startup, your most powerful weapon will always be character—and that optimism, empathy, and discipline aren’t just military virtues; they’re human essentials.

Powell’s legendary Thirteen Rules are the backbone of his leadership philosophy—simple, memorable, and earned in sweat. They are not arbitrary slogans; they are tested tools for surviving chaos, managing people, and maintaining composure. Each rule reveals something about the mindset required to keep moving when others freeze.

Optimism and Perspective

Rule 1, “It ain’t as bad as you think, it will look better in the morning,” is quintessential Powell. He learned early that crises look different after rest. Maintaining optimism isn’t false cheer—it’s a discipline that stabilizes teams. He quotes Churchill’s “never give up,” linking moral courage to daily endurance. For Powell, optimism is emotional armor in uncertain times.

Temper and Ego

“Get mad, then get over it” captures controlled emotion. Whether dealing with French Foreign Minister Dominique de Villepin’s Iraqi diplomacy or an insubordinate officer in training, Powell shows that real strength lies in self-regulation. Anger may arise—it’s human—but staying angry makes you ineffective. Rule 3 warns against equating ego with ideas: lose an argument, not your identity. As he tells young officers, “Loyalty is disagreeing strongly, then executing faithfully.”

Instinct and Decision

Powell distinguishes informed instinct from rash guessing. He recounts Eisenhower’s D-Day decision—it was “gut plus homework.” Likewise, a clear-eyed recognition that facts aren’t always final enables courage. In the Philippines coup crisis, his gut told him to buzz, not bomb—the right call that saved lives. Leadership demands reading the open field even when maps fail.

Caring and Responsibility

Rules like “Check small things” and “Share credit” mirror servant leadership. When Powell inspects messy barracks or talks with garage attendants in the State Department, he demonstrates that empathy starts with noticing. Moral authority grows from attention to details—clean latrines and remembered names. His favorite image of General Emerson saluting his troops rather than taking their salute reinforces humility as the highest rank.

Fear and Faith

His final rules—“Don’t take counsel of your fears or naysayers” and “Perpetual optimism is a force multiplier”—are about faith in yourself and your team. Powell recounts marching through Vietnam ambushes afraid yet steady because courage thrives in transparency. It’s okay to fear—you just can’t stop moving. His conclusion summarizes his creed: leaders emit hope until it becomes real.

In the section titled “Know Yourself, Be Yourself,” Powell explores authenticity as the foundation of leadership. Leaders who fake competence or kindness lose trust instantly. He urges readers to cultivate consistency—being the same person in private as in public. This self-honesty keeps ego in check when power tempts excess.

Early Lessons in Work and Character

Working in a Bronx toy store, Powell met a boss who valued diligence over glamour. “You’re too good to just be a schlepper,” the man told him—advice that woke a sense of purpose. Later, in the Army, “doing your best” meant loyalty even when orders conflicted with preferences. This discipline of excellence—what he calls “giving the king his due”—taught him to honor responsibility even when unseen. (The principle echoes Angela Duckworth’s concept of grit.)

Humility and Ego Control

Powell stays grounded through humor. His daughter once teased him in uniform: “Mom, GI Joe’s home.” Later, a waitress once refused him lunch for lacking a ticket, reminding him not to take himself too seriously. Such humility keeps leaders human. He jokes that his family keeps “oxygen masks” handy for when his ego inflates. Knowing yourself means allowing others to puncture pretense.

Avoiding the Busy Trap

He warns against becoming a “busy bastard”—someone who equates worth with hours worked. True productivity comes from balance: rest, family, and perspective. Under mentors like Frank Carlucci and President Reagan, he learned efficiency over exhaustion. Leaders who demand 24/7 work from subordinates breed burnout, not brilliance. “I pay for quality of work, not hours at work.”

Kindness as Power

One of Powell’s enduring lessons is that kindness multiplies loyalty. A line attendant told him that people who greet workers get their cars first in the State Department garage. That story became his metaphor for reciprocal respect. As he reminds readers, “Always show more kindness than seems necessary—the person receiving it needs it more than you know.”

Powell’s third major section, “Take Care of the Troops,” broadens leadership beyond self-improvement into stewardship. For him, followers aren’t expendable parts of a machine—they’re living trust. Caring for people builds teams that will, in his words, “follow you out of curiosity—and then out of belief.”

Trust Is the First Order

In his first big test as Secretary of State, Powell let two junior desk officers brief the President of the United States without rehearsed scripts. His staff panicked, but the briefing succeeded brilliantly—because trust breeds excellence. “Start by trusting your people,” he says. “If they fail, you find out what they need—not who to blame.” Trust precedes performance.

Mutual Respect and Distance

Respect flows both ways but requires boundaries. Leaders can be friendly yet must remain distinct. “Familiarity breeds contempt,” he warns: if everyone feels equal, leadership loses its guiding gravity. Followers don’t need you as a buddy; they need you as compass and guardian. Like modern servant leaders, Powell sees authority as service—not inequality but necessary structure.

Courageous Correction

His rule “Never walk past a mistake” reinforces disciplined empathy. Correct people on the spot—it shows standards and care. Whether noticing a crooked insignia or a sloppy process, intervention prevents failure from festering. “You can’t fool a GI,” he says; real workers know if leadership cares. This idea parallels Toyota’s “stop-the-line” principle—everyone is responsible for quality now, not later.

Seeing Humans, Not Roles

His analogy “We’re mammals” explains that humans, like lions or elephants, thrive in tribes, not isolation. Families, mentors, and elders pass survival knowledge down generations. He extends this to the Army’s culture—structure and affection coexist. Drill sergeants may terrify recruits but earn lifelong gratitude. Good organizations emulate this: structure plus love.

The digital revolution, Powell argues, doesn’t change human fundamentals. His “Fast Times in the Digital World” chapters modernize leadership for an information-saturated age. Leaders must upgrade not only hardware but “brainware.” Technology without emotional intelligence simply accelerates confusion.

Brainware Over Hardware

When Powell became Secretary of State in 2001, the department’s computers were ancient—some still running obsolete systems. He modernized them but insisted the real task was to change mindsets. Leaders must model digital openness: he personally emailed ambassadors, demanding updated data in real time. “If Walmart can update its inventory with every purchase,” he said, “the State Department can update its facts when a foreign leader dies.”

Decision Truths: Four Questions

Powell trained intelligence officers with four questions: Tell me what you know. Tell me what you don’t know. Tell me what you think. Always distinguish which from which. In an era of misinformation, these rules remain universal. Good decisions come from clarity, not quantity. (This anticipates modern frameworks for critical thinking like Daniel Kahneman’s “Thinking, Fast and Slow.”)

Manage First Reports, Move Early

He cautions against overreacting to breaking news—“First reports are usually wrong.” Yet he also demands not waiting too long. When scandals like Abu Ghraib erupted, delay made truth harder. His twin rules: act early, but verify always. Cultures that punish bearers of bad news breed disasters faster than email viruses.

Communicating to Five Audiences

In wartime briefings, Powell spoke to five audiences at once: reporters, the American people, foreign leaders, enemies, and his troops. The first matters least. Speaking through chaos demands clarity and honesty. Whether you address CNN or your startup team, know who truly needs to hear—and how they’ll interpret it.

In “Getting to 150 Percent,” Powell integrates management discipline with emotional intelligence. Great leaders, he notes, extract more than 100 percent by creating cultures of pride and purpose—not pressure and fear. They inspire people to give “150 percent” because they believe in the mission and in themselves.

Coaching with Clarity

Powell trains aides to avoid chaos: always ask if you’re unsure; never surprise your boss; be punctual and truthful. His chapter “What I Tell My New Aides” reads like a masterclass in managing up and down. He insists on plain writing, precise language, and prompt action. Even humor has a policy purpose: laughter builds connectivity faster than memos.

Team Unity and Healthy Competition

“One Team, One Fight” and “Compete to Win” illustrate his paradox—build unity while encouraging rivalry. Healthy competition sharpens skills; unity ensures shared purpose. He recalls the “Boeselager” tank competitions in Germany and how rigorous preparation forged both winners and respect for discipline. Properly led competition is collaboration toward excellence.

Humility in Transition

Powell defies the myth of the indispensable leader. Echoing Lincoln’s quip about replaceable generals, he says: “You’re not irreplaceable—only horses are hard to find.” Leaders should cultivate successors and know when to “get off the train.” Staying too long corrodes legacies. Graceful exits, like smooth handoffs in the Army, are leadership’s final test.

Reflective Growth

Through “Mirror, Mirror on the Wall,” Powell introduces the After-Action Review (AAR), a candid team debrief pioneered by the Army. No blame—only learning. “You can’t fix what you won’t face.” This process, later applied in diplomacy and business, builds high-performance cultures grounded in honesty. Reflection turns mistakes into institutions of wisdom.

In his final sections, Powell moves from tactics to timeless perspective—on power, service, and humanity. These essays blend humility, humor, and grace, giving readers a window into the inner life of a public servant shaped by duty and decency.

The Burden and the Blot

His recounting of the 2003 UN weapons presentation is raw honesty. “It’s a blot,” he admits—proof that even integrity can err amid flawed systems. Rather than bitterness, he models ownership: acknowledge failure, learn, move forward. His advice to leaders mirrors cognitive-behavioral wisdom: over-analysis paralyzes; self-forgiveness liberates.

Humor, Culture, and Diplomacy

Chapters like “Parsley Island,” where he mediates a nonsensical Spanish-Moroccan spat, highlight diplomacy through humor. His “hot dog diplomacy” with China’s Hu Jintao humanizes world politics. Details like toasting buns with Mayor Bloomberg or swapping jokes with Princess Diana reveal that civilization runs on civility.

Purpose and Education

Powell concludes with gratitude to the institutions that gave him a start—public schools and the City College of New York. His final chapters return to service through education, notably America’s Promise, which provides “the gift of a good start” to underprivileged youth. The general turned mentor closes where he began: someone must hold the ladder for the next climber.

All About People

In his afterword, Powell echoes Admiral Hyman Rickover: “Organizations don’t get things done. People do.” After decades of war, governance, and global diplomacy, this soldier’s final command is deceptively gentle: remember the human being. Successes fade; systems crumble—but the kindness you show, the trust you earn, and the people you serve will outlast any doctrine. That, he concludes, is what truly worked for him.