Burning the Ships
Hernán Cortés, driven by an unquenchable thirst for success, stood at a pivotal crossroads in 1519.
He and his men, weathered by the relentless challenges of a perilous ocean voyage, had finally reached the shores of what would be known as Mexico. Cortés, fueled by a potent blend of personal ambition and a quest for glory, was acutely aware of the immense riches and potential power that lay within this uncharted land.
His eyes, reflecting a blend of weariness and unyielding determination, mirrored the ambitions of a man set on carving his name into the annals of history. The promise of wealth, the allure of political power, and the competitive spirit of the Age of Exploration coursed through his veins.
But Cortés’s men were exhausted and scared. Many of them wanted to return home.
That’s when Cortés ordered the ships burned.
Except, no. The ships weren’t actually burned at all; they were scuttled, or deliberately sunk instead. It’s a lot more dramatic to imagine them on fire, isn’t it?
Cortés also wasn’t the first person to have this idea, nor was it particularly original. There are tales of Alexander the Great reaching the shores of Persia in the 4th century BCE, and ordering his ships to be burned. Similarly, Julius Caesar is reported to have used a similar tactic during the Roman invasion of Britain around 55 BCE.
Frustratingly, these historical anecdotes may be more like urban legends of sorts, but Cortés was certainly aware of the strategy. This is called the Mandela Effect—a phenomenon wherein we somehow develop a false collective memory of something going a certain way. Fellow author
just yesterday published a piece on this psychological phenomenon (read that here).Sun Tzu, the ancient military strategist, advised making a show of burning boats and bridges in certain situations, making clear that retreat was not an option. Sun Tzu wrote The Art of War about 2000 years before Cortés.
What a powerful motivating force it must be to realize that you have two options: success or death!
I can vouch. No, I’ve never traveled across the Atlantic by caravel, nor have I ordered any physical boats to be destroyed (burned or otherwise). However, I’ve crossed a few metaphorical oceans during my lifetime, and I’ve certainly committed myself beyond the point of no return.
“Point of no return” is another good way to think about this concept, because this phrase indicates that something terrible could also happen. If you’re talking about the event horizon of a black hole, you’ll never, ever escape, even if you’re made of massless photons.
On the other hand, the motivation you get from trading off potential security is powerful. In 2005, I finally quit the last restaurant job I was holding onto. This gradually had become more of a security blanket and less of an absolute must-have, but when I resigned, it felt like leaving an old world behind.
When I started Revolution BJJ a year later, I had almost no money, and no other prospects for income, outside of a few BJJ-related odd jobs like refereeing, or teaching seminars, or doing the occasional private lesson. If I wanted to pay my rent, I needed to find income.
Ten years earlier, my move from South Carolina to Richmond was a similar leap, burning the ships of my old state and leaving it behind for good. I was completely determined to make a new life in Richmond, and I immediately set out to do whatever needed to be done to make that happen.
So, is it a good idea to “burn the ships”? Is leaving only one option on the table something you should do, with the only possible alternative devastating personal failure?
It really depends. I’m a huge fan of the concept of never wagering something you can’t afford to lose, but on the other hand, having something important on the line has been undeniably motivating for me. I think it has something to do with why I’ve had some success in business ownership and entrepreneurship over the last few decades.
I wouldn’t presume to know what your own make-up is, but I’d suggest figuring out some kind of balance between potential devastating loss and something so trivial you won’t care if you lose it. Burning the metaphorical ships you can afford to lose, but which still might be painful, is probably the sweet spot.
Have you ever “burned the ships” in your own life? What happened as a result?
I've burned the ships lots of times. Often when I was younger it was because I was facing depression-related burnout but didn't really understand what that was or what to do about it. As I've gotten older, the same type of thing can cause it but I'm more aware, deliberate and intentional in my choices. Although sometimes I've regretted the way that I did it, I have never regretted doing it.
And so goes the expression, "don't burn your bridges." It's very individualistic. One person's small bridge is another's big bridge and vice versa. For example, Person 1 may become estranged with a family member and make no attempt to repair the damage and move on relatively unscathed but will never quit their soul sucking job. But Person 2 would be destroyed by familial estrangement and will do everything in their power to repair relationships while at the same time they'll quit a gig at the first sign of trouble. It has to do with priorities and values.