Michelle: Alright Mark, pop quiz. I'm going to say the title of a book from 1899: A Message to Garcia. What's your gut reaction? What do you think it's about? Mark: 1899? Sounds like a Western Union telegram delivered by a guy on a horse. Probably very formal, lots of 'hitherto' and 'forthwith.' Am I close? Michelle: You're not entirely wrong about the telegram vibe! But this little essay, A Message to Garcia by Elbert Hubbard, was an accidental blockbuster. Hubbard wrote it in an hour as a filler for his magazine, fueled by frustration with his staff. Mark: Wait, an hour? As filler? Michelle: Exactly. He thought nothing of it. But it ended up being reprinted over 40 million times during his lifetime. It became required reading for everyone from Russian soldiers during the Russo-Japanese War to American boy scouts and corporate executives. Mark: Forty million? For a filler piece? That's insane. What was in this message that everyone needed to hear? Michelle: That’s the million-dollar question, isn't it? The power of it, and the reason it exploded, really comes down to one simple, dramatic story at its core. It’s a story about the ultimate ideal employee.

Mark: The ideal employee? That sounds like a myth, like a unicorn. What did this person do? Michelle: Okay, so picture this. It's the Spanish-American War. The U.S. President, McKinley, needs to get a message to the leader of the Cuban insurgents, a General Garcia. This is critical for the war effort. The problem is, no one knows where Garcia is. He's hidden somewhere in the vast, hostile jungles of Cuba. Mail's not running, there are no telegraph lines. It's an impossible task. Mark: Right, so a huge strategic problem. What do they do? Michelle: Someone in McKinley’s cabinet says, "There is a fellow by the name of Rowan who will find Garcia for you, if anybody can." So they summon this Lieutenant Andrew Rowan. McKinley gives him a letter. And here is the absolute heart of the entire essay. Hubbard writes, "McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, ‘Where is he at?’" Mark: Whoa. He didn't ask where to find the guy who's lost in a jungle in a warzone? That's not initiative, that sounds like a suicide mission. Michelle: That’s the heroic part, according to Hubbard! Rowan takes the letter, seals it in an oilskin pouch, straps it over his heart, and four days later, he lands on the coast of Cuba at night from an open boat. He disappears into the jungle. Three weeks later, he emerges on the other side of the island, having trekked through hostile territory, and delivers the message to Garcia. Mark: That is a movie scene right there. I can see it. But the whole point, the thing that made 40 million people read this, is that he didn't ask a question? Michelle: Precisely. For Hubbard, Rowan is the perfect man. He is the physical embodiment of a person who can be given a task and will simply get it done. No hand-holding, no excuses, no "idiotic questions." He just focuses on the mission and executes. Hubbard argues that civilization itself is one long, anxious search for people just like Rowan. Mark: I can see the appeal for a manager. You just hand off a problem and it gets solved. No follow-up emails, no clarification meetings. It’s a dream. Michelle: It's the ultimate dream. And to show how rare this is, Hubbard tells this other little story. He says, imagine you're a manager. You call in a clerk and say, "Please make a brief memorandum for me on the life of Correggio." Mark: Okay, simple enough. Look up an artist in an encyclopedia. Michelle: You'd think. But Hubbard says the clerk will likely respond with a volley of questions. "Who was he? Which encyclopedia? Where is the encyclopedia? Was I hired for that? Don't you mean Bismarck? Is he dead? Is there any hurry? Can't Charlie do it? What do you want to know for?" Mark: Oh, I've worked with that guy. It's infuriating. He's making his problem-solving deficit your problem. You end up doing more work managing his questions than it would have taken to just do the task yourself. Michelle: Exactly! Hubbard’s point is that the world is full of these clerks, but what it needs are Rowans. He says we don't need more book-learning, we need a "stiffening of the vertebrae." We need people who are loyal to a trust, who act promptly, and who will just "carry the message to Garcia." Mark: That phrase, "carry a message to Garcia," it became a cultural shorthand, didn't it? Like a catchphrase for "just get it done." Michelle: It absolutely did. It entered the lexicon. For business leaders, military commanders, and anyone in a position of authority, this essay was a godsend. It articulated perfectly the kind of person they desperately wanted to hire and promote. The person who takes ownership. Mark: And I get it. The story of the unreliable bookkeeper who might stop at four saloons on an errand, or the discontented man who is so suspicious of his boss he can't take an order—these are real, frustrating archetypes. Hubbard is tapping into a universal pain point for anyone who has ever tried to lead a team. Michelle: He is. And he argues that people like Rowan are so rare that any employer who finds one will grant them anything. Their kind is so valuable they can't afford to let them go. It’s a powerful, compelling vision of professional excellence.

Mark: Okay, I get the appeal. We all want a 'Rowan' on our team, not the encyclopedia guy. But let's be real. This philosophy has a dark side, doesn't it? I’ve read this essay gets a lot of criticism for being... well, a bit authoritarian. Michelle: You've hit on the central controversy that has followed this essay for over a century. On one hand, it's a celebration of initiative and responsibility. On the other, it's been heavily criticized for promoting blind obedience. Mark: Right. Because in the modern workplace, we're told to "challenge the status quo," to "innovate," to "speak truth to power." All of that requires asking questions. Hubbard seems to be saying questions are a sign of weakness or incompetence. Michelle: He definitely frames it that way. And critics point out a crucial, misleading detail in his story. The real Lieutenant Rowan wasn't just some random guy who blindly accepted a mission. He was a trained military intelligence officer. He was part of the Bureau of Military Information. He had been briefed, he had prepared. He didn't ask "Where is he?" because that was part of his job to figure out. Hubbard stripped away all that nuance to create a more powerful, but less truthful, parable. Mark: That changes everything! So it’s not a story about blind obedience, it’s a story about a competent professional executing a mission he was trained for. Hubbard’s version feels like propaganda for a "shut up and do your job" management style. Michelle: That's the core of the critique. Some academics see it as a tool of capitalism to keep the working class in line, to justify harsh management and discourage any form of dissent. Hubbard has this other line in the book, "If put to the pinch, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound of cleverness." Mark: But what if your boss is an idiot? Or what if the order is unethical? Is loyalty still the highest virtue then? That "ounce of loyalty" could lead a company right off a cliff. Michelle: That's the danger. Hubbard also tells the story of "The Discontented Man," a brilliant person who can't hold a job because he's constantly suspicious of his employer and refuses to take orders. Hubbard says if you asked this man to carry a message to Garcia, he'd say, "Take it yourself!" and that the only thing that can impress him is "the toe of a thick-soled Number Nine boot." Mark: Wow. So if you question your boss, you're a "firebrand of discontent" who needs to be kicked? That sounds incredibly toxic. In today's world, that "discontented man" might be a future whistleblower or the one person brave enough to point out a fatal flaw in the company's strategy. Michelle: It's a completely different framing, isn't it? The essay's reception is really polarizing. Readers either see it as a timeless call to personal responsibility, or as a dangerously outdated piece of propaganda that stifles the very critical thinking and psychological safety that modern organizations need to thrive. There's no middle ground. Mark: It feels like the essay's value depends entirely on the context. If you're a firefighter and the chief yells "Get the hose!", you don't ask, "Which hose? Are you sure that's the best fire-fighting strategy?" You act like Rowan. The mission is clear, trust is high, and hesitation is catastrophic. Michelle: A perfect example. In that scenario, you need a Rowan. Mark: But if you're a software engineer and your manager says, "Build this feature," and you see a dozen technical and ethical problems with it, acting like Rowan would be a disaster. You have to be the person who asks the "idiotic questions." Michelle: And that's the paradox of "A Message to Garcia" in the 21st century. It was written for a command-and-control world, a world of factories and armies. Its message of unquestioning execution doesn't always translate well to a knowledge-based economy that runs on creativity, collaboration, and critical thought.

Mark: So where does this leave us? Is A Message to Garcia a tool for empowerment or a tool for oppression? Michelle: I think it's a Rorschach test for your own philosophy of work. The essay itself isn't good or evil; it's a mirror. It champions self-reliance, dedication, and taking initiative, and those are timeless, powerful virtues. Nobody succeeds by being the encyclopedia clerk who passes the buck. We all need to have some 'Rowan' in us. Mark: But it's not the whole picture. Michelle: Not at all. Its weakness is that it presents this one-dimensional hero as the only ideal. It was written in an era that valued obedience over ingenuity. Today, we know that the most successful organizations aren't just filled with people who can follow orders. They're filled with people who can improve the orders. Mark: The people who ask, "Is this the right message? And is Garcia even the right person to deliver it to?" Michelle: Exactly. So maybe the real "message to Garcia" for us today is about developing judgment. It's about knowing when to be a Rowan—when the mission is clear, the trust is high, and execution is paramount—and when to be the thoughtful, critical partner who asks the tough questions that prevent disaster. It’s not about choosing one; it’s about having the wisdom to be both. Mark: That's a much more nuanced take. It’s not just "do the thing," it's "understand the thing, and then do the right thing." It really makes you think about your own workplace and the roles you play. Michelle: It does. And it's probably why, despite all the controversy, this little essay written in an hour over a century ago is still being talked about today. Mark: So for everyone listening, we'd love to know: have you ever been asked to 'carry a message to Garcia'? What happened? Were you the Rowan who just got it done, or the person who had to ask the hard questions? Share your stories with us on our socials. Michelle: This is Aibrary, signing off.