‘Find Hungry Samurai’: Team Building Lessons from a Japanese Master

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‘Of course you’re afraid of the enemy. But don’t forget: he’s afraid of you too.'
‘Seven Samurai’

‘Seven Samurai’ is a 1954 epic drama set in sixteenth century Japan, co-written and directed by Akira Kurosawa.

A small village has been repeatedly ravaged by bandits, and the inhabitants learn that their tormentors plan to return after the harvest. 

'Is there no god to protect us? Land tax, forced labour, war, drought and now bandits. The gods want us farmers dead!’

The villagers send a delegation into town to hire rōnin, masterless samurai, in the hope that they may provide some protection. Lacking money to pay for the warriors, the farmers are initially treated with contempt. However eventually they find Kambei, an experienced samurai with a noble spirit. 

With his help they recruit six more men: a trusted former comrade, a youth who’s keen to learn, a taciturn master swordsman, an amiable strategist, a hearty joker and an enthusiastic fraud.

When the warriors arrive at the village they are greeted with suspicion. The locals’ previous experience of samurai has been violent and exploitative. 

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'All farmers ever do is worry, whether the rain falls, the sun shines or the wind blows. In short, all they know is fear.’

But the samurai gradually earn the villagers’ trust and they set about converting meek farmers into a fighting force. Soon the villagers are learning combat technique, battle tactics and how to operate as a unit. 

'This is the nature of war: collective defence protects the individual; individual defence destroys the individual.’

Kambei surveys the village with a map, plotting where to expect the enemy assaults; where to build barricades and moats.

‘Defence is more difficult than attack.’

At length the stockades are constructed, the training is completed and the crops are harvested. The villagers begin to speculate that they may be lucky this time: perhaps the bandits won’t come after all.

'A tempting thought. But when you think you're safe is precisely when you're most vulnerable.'

Of course Kambei is right, and soon the hostilities commence. Central to his strategy is his intention to lure the bandits into the village one by one.

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'A good fort needs a gap. The enemy must be lured in. So we can attack them. If we only defend, we lose the war.’

All goes to plan. The mounted bandits can only break into the village in ones and twos. And once inside they are picked off by groups of farmers armed with bamboo spears. 

But the fighting takes its toll on the villagers too. With their strength fading and their numbers dwindling, they prepare for the final all-out attack. Kambei orders that the remaining thirteen bandits be allowed into the village all at once. 

The magnificent climactic scene takes place in a torrential morning downpour. Confused horses twist and turn in the mud, stamping and snorting. Determined villagers crowd around desperate bandits, screaming their battle cries, goading them with their spears. Fearsome samurai wade in the water, swinging their swords, slashing through the enemy armour. It’s chaotic and brutal.

‘Seven Samurai’ was an international success and was adapted into the 1960 western 'The Magnificent Seven.’ It inspired many subsequent action and adventure films, and is credited with establishing the 'assembling the team’ motif that has become familiar in so many war, caper and heist movies.

‘Seven Samurai’ suggests lessons for anyone in business engaged in recruiting and managing a team.

Kambei didn’t just sign up the six most talented samurai. In the first place the villagers couldn’t afford them. But also he knew that the best individuals don’t necessarily make the best team. Rather Kambei recruited a balance of youth and experience, of strategic and fighting skills, of swordsmanship and archery. He embraced hard-nosed puritans and eccentric mavericks. He recognised the need for humour to build morale. And he drilled the team tirelessly before they faced the enemy.

I was particularly struck by the words of the village elder at the outset of the drama.

'Find hungry samurai. Even bears leave the forest when they are hungry.’

I couldn’t claim to have been the best leader of a Planning Department. But I was conscious of the need for diversity of skills and character; for building community and delivering value. And I tried to avoid the obvious hires - people with big reputations, big wage demands and low motivation. I liked to find talent in unfamiliar places; to fish in less popular ponds. I always hired people I liked, admired and trusted – people with appetite. I found hungry samurai.

Though the samurai emerge triumphant from the conflict, their victory comes at a heavy price. At the end of the film the three surviving warriors look on from the funeral mounds of their comrades as the villagers joyously plant fresh crops. 

‘So. Again we are defeated. The farmers have won. Not us.’

 

'When you come to me
I'll question myself again.
Is this grip on life still my own?

When every step I take
Leads me so far away.
Every thought should bring me closer home.

There you stand making my life possible.
Raise my hands up to heaven,
But only you could know.

My whole world stands in front of me.
By the look in your eyes.
By the look in your eyes.’

David Sylvian,’ Brilliant Trees’ 

No. 299

The Haunted Brand: When The Past Is Ever Present

'Just when I think I'm winning,
When I've broken every door,
The ghosts of my life
Blow wilder than before.’
David Sylvian/Japan, Ghosts

Ghosts were very much part of my childhood. When the lights were out Martin and I told each other twisted tales of spirits and spooks. We speculated about poltergeists and exorcisms and bumps in the night. Anywhere old could be haunted, anyone strange could be possessed, anything innocuous could be animated… and come flying across the room with paranormal velocity.

Ghosts illuminated our darkness. They explained our fears, made sense of our doubts.

I’m not sure we tell ghost stories in quite the same way nowadays. The supernatural is a source of entertainment rather than of solace. Our technological age is more knowing and rational.

And yet I think many modern cultures, organisations and brands are haunted. Haunted by previous regimes and values, by the successes and failures of the past. Haunted by broken promises, missed chances, dashed hopes.

Often our new gold dreams are tarnished by the false dawns and sunset thinking of our predecessors. The benefit of the doubt is discounted by the memory of actual experience. Progress is constrained by change fatigue, culture is jaded by cynicism.

And as I have grown older I have realised that we as individuals are haunted too. By the values and preoccupations of our youth, the recollections of our prime, our salad days. We are haunted by our absences and disappointments. Haunted by our parents, by their beliefs, by their sentiments and stories.

We imagine we are living in the moment, that we are creatures of today, bold, positive, independent and optimistic. We set visions, missions and purposes. We look up and forward and beyond. We’re all aspirational now.

But our thoughts and values, the ways that we judge the world, were framed in a bygone era. We cannot escape all our yesterdays.

‘I am inclined to think we are all ghosts. It is not only what we have inherited from our fathers and mothers that exists again in us, but all sorts of old dead ideas and all kinds of old dead beliefs and things of that kind. They are not actually alive in us; but there they are, dormant, all the same, and we can never be rid of them.’

Henrik Ibsen – Ghosts

It has also been observed that, whereas in days gone by we struggled to remember, in the era of the social web we struggle to forget. Nowadays our past is ever present. It is always available. At the touch of a button, within a click’s reach of curiosity. The past is not a foreign country. It is our own backyard.

So our ghosts are all around us. And a culture that cannot forget, will inevitably find it hard to forgive. In the corporate realm ‘sorry’ seems to be the easiest word. But an apology is rarely enough to erase the memories of promises broken and trust betrayed.

Is your business or brand haunted? Are there ghosts of a previous management’s mistakes and misdemeanours? Is your organisation haunted by ‘old dead beliefs’?  Are you yourself haunted by the ghost of Christmas past? Have you ‘been spending most of your life living in a pastime paradise’?

Exorcising The Haunted Brand is never easy. It may begin with self knowledge; with recognising that we are all products of our era, our environment, our gifts, gender and ethnicity. We see the world through the prism of our own experience. Exorcism requires public acknowledgement. But it also needs action: active and opposite strategies. It requires diversity of culture and leadership style. We need to surround ourselves with difference. We must have an appetite for change that is radical and genuine. And, if we are properly to rid ourselves of these corporate ghosts, we must set values at the centre, not at the side.

We talk a good deal nowadays about the growing imperative for businesses and brands to demonstrate values and purpose.

There are many good reasons for this. Growing consumer demands for transparency, growing colleague demands for engagement. The demise of Church and State. And the Planet. The triple bottom line…

But one of the primary reasons for the ethical imperative is this simple fact: we need to protect the brands of the future from the ghosts of our own past.

No. 35