Management is not a "watchdog."

Recently, I reread it out of nostalgia, and those impressions of the food scenes remained perfectly unchanged. However, regarding the story as a whole, compared to my younger self who empathized solely with Kosaku, I now found myself moved by the adults watching over his growth and worrying about him. I also noticed for the first time the grandfather, who repeatedly failed in business and drank constantly, looking at his grandson with a gaze full of concern. Truly great novels reveal new discoveries with each rereading.

This seems to apply beyond literature. I first read the renowned management classic The Knowledge-Creating Company shortly after joining my company. Drowning in daily tasks, I picked it up, drawn by its academic scent, but my reading was purely at a student level. I felt no real connection to any of the innovation case studies, merely absorbing them as knowledge to learn.

Then, when I reread it around my 15th year at the company, the various case studies felt familiar and personal. I particularly empathized with the struggles of middle management driving these initiatives proactively and vividly envied their successes.

Since then, as the years have passed, I feel my perspective has gradually shifted toward that of top management. How should that "vague corporate vision proposed by leaders" actually be set? How can middle management be energized to engage with projects? Even though I'm reading the same book, what I want to know has clearly changed.

The Knowledge-Creating Company by Ikujiro Nonaka and Hirotaka Takeuchi, translated by Katsuhiro Umemoto, Toyo Keizai Inc.

Recently, I've been involved in "new business development projects" at various companies. Often, I see the project leader acting as a "supportive observer," telling the team, "Go ahead, be bold and free!" Honestly, if I were still that cocky young employee, I'd probably think, "Yeah, yeah, leave it to me!" But now, having read The Knowledge-Creating Company from various perspectives, I genuinely believe that approach won't work.

The reason is simple: if left entirely to their own devices, the likelihood of the project becoming one truly suited to that company or organization is low. For example, imagine a company dealing in household foods where the team proposes, "Let's tackle 'insects' as a future food source!" What would the response be? Ironically, it's precisely the leaders who say "Go ahead, be bold and free!" who are most likely to retort, "No way (laughs)!" "Do you really think our company would do that?" And if you ask, "So, what defines our company's identity?" you get, "......You know what I mean, right?" This leaves the frontline staff in a bind.

Management has a responsibility to act as a "wall" for the front lines. One role is to constantly question whether the concept challenges existing norms. The other is to continually ask (after clearly articulating the corporate vision) whether it's truly something the company should pursue. It's the front line's drive to overcome that "wall" that becomes the engine of innovation.

Even old books gathering dust on the shelf hold many discoveries if you revisit them properly.

Iganabe

Speaking of Izu, it's famous for its "seafood bounty." But while wandering around the Amagi area, inspired by 'Shirobanba,' I realized it's not just rich in wasabi, a local specialty, but also abundant in game like deer and wild boar. Savoring these "mountain delicacies" along the drive to the port town of Shimoda was a rather delightful discovery.