Author Archives: John Bessant

About John Bessant

Originally a chemical engineer, John Bessant has been active in the field of research and consultancy in technology and innovation management for over 40 years. He is Emeritus Professor of Innovation and Entrepreneurship at the University of Exeter and also has visiting appointments at the universities of Stavanger, Norway and Erlangen-Nuremburg, Germany. Author of over 30 books and 200 articles, you can find out more here: www.johnbessant.org

Beating the Bougainvillea Blues

Why cutting back can sometimes be the best innovation option

Beating the Bougainvillea Blues

GUEST POST from John Bessant

Every year about this time we move southwards. Like very late swallows. Desperately seeking some of the yellow stuff to help recharge our solar cells and thaw out frozen fingers. Our preferred destination is Cyprus, Aphrodite’s island, a jewel set in the Mediterranean whose long history of invasion by others suggests significant local attractions. In particular it has a track record of sunshine hours which is hard to match, an average of 300 days per year.

(Of course that begs the question of what climatic shape the other 65 days take and it would be greedy to expect the absence of a few drops of rain or the odd cloud or two….)

Unfortunately the changeable element in the weather pattern has a predilection for December/January and so this year we have enjoyed a meteorological smorgasbord in which the weather has been experimenting with all the things it otherwise never gets a chance to play with. Including hail, thunder, snow (visible in the distance dusting the mountaintops), winds, even waterspouts out at sea.

Plus rain. Quite a lot of it. In fact enough to challenge even my generous view that it’s OK to wash out another day of my sunshine stay because the dams need filling up ready for the dry spring and summer.

Despite this I’m mostly doing fine with my optimism, enjoying the peace and beauty of the island (when we can go outdoors) and compensating for the lack of sunshine by drinking its distilled variety in the form of local wines to accompany local foods, liberally sprinkled with excellent olive oil, again courtesy of the missing sunshine…

However this morning sees me a little end-of-year blue because I’m pressing my nose up against the rainy window pane to see the bougainvillea. Or rather not seeing it. Let me explain.

When we bought the house one of the things I loved was the bougainvillea. Three trees worth of it, massive gnarled old trunks which spiraled up and over a wooden pergola guiding the branches and leaves to create a spectacular roof of purple and red. Look down on it from the bedroom window and there is your magic carpet waiting for you to climb aboard and fly away, watching the world below through its soft feathery leaves. Look up at it and you have a wonderful cave of shade, shielding you from the fierce summer sun, with its thick green foliage and gentle impossible blossoms. Whichever angle you viewed it from the effect was the same — crystalized summer …

Except that last year the pergola frame on which this whole amazing confection was resting gave up the ghost. Pressed down and strangled by its burden of branches it finally began to lean dangerously to the point where we had to bite the horticultural bullet and rethink.

Our superhero builder Dave sucked his teeth, cocked his head a couple of times then confirmed that we needed to replace the frame with a stronger new pergola suitably secured to the ground. But in order to effect this reconstruction we’d need to cut back the bougainvillea. Big time.

Cue Ollie whose green fingers and experienced brain have learned to work with the island’s fecund sun-rich approach to growth. He reliably reassured us that the project would work and that, while the short-term operation might look a little savage, it would all come out right in the end. He reminded us that this was precisely why the local wines taste so good — because the vineyard owners understand the importance of pruning.

I’d noticed this; the winter round of hacking back the thick bushes which had been so rich in foliage and fruit to the point where there are just a few stumps sticking up like dead men’s fingers clawing at the sky. And yet by the spring time the whole glorious cycle starts to repeat itself. His parting words were along the lines of ‘trust me… Nature’s got this!’

We bit the bullet. So what greeted us this year on arrival was a somewhat stark reduction in the foliage. In fact no foliage at all, just a couple of very lonely-looking stumps…..

Not so easy on the eye but I’ll try to have faith. And at least it offers an interesting metaphor for how we might think about innovation management at the start of a New Year.

It’s a safe bet to assume that there are plenty of resolutions buzzing round the brains of those with a stake in helping create value from our ideas. Lots of good intentions about doing things differently in 2025, expansive plans to try out new approaches, deploy new tools, do new stuff.

And there’s no shortage of new things to try. There’s a whole industry out there dedicated to challenging us to revise our innovation approaches — research papers, conference speeches, benchmark case studies, even, dare I say it, the odd blog or two like this one. The invitation to re-frame, to reinvent ourselves comes at us from multiple angles — and there’s a bewildering but enticing display of new tools and techniques which threaten to turn us into children running through the innovation sweet-shop on a serious sugar high.

And now we have AI. You don’t need to be Cassandra to be capable of making a pretty safe bet — 2025 will be the year of AI moving mainstream. Already a majority of organizations report experimenting with the enormous opportunity; it won’t take long before that converts to proven improvements in practice. Changing the ways in which we work with innovation, the products and services we offer and the different targets we try to reach.

The danger in all of this is that we keep adding to our repertoire, adding more and more growth to our innovation operations. We risk them becoming a close cousin to my bougainvillea thicket, overgrown to the point of collapse.

Innovation is all about creating and developing ‘routines’ — patterns of behavior which enable us to repeat the innovation trick. We learn over time effective ways to make it happen — how we search effectively, how we choose amongst different opportunities, how we implement in agile fashion, streamlining the process of converting ideas to value. Over time we build on those which work for us, embedding them in ‘the way we do things round here’, shaping them into the kind of innovation system which the International Standards Organization now recommends. Not just slogans about the importance of innovation but the structures, processes and policies to enable those behaviors.

Managed well this is a prescription for healthy growth. But it’s not a matter of abstract systems or process flow charts; it’s much closer to the challenge of planting and tending an orchard. A rich harvest of innovation fruit comes from strong branches on trees which have matured thanks to careful cultivation. Maintaining what’s already established and allowing for new shoots, sprouting in new directions, opening up more possibilities for future growth.

This doesn’t happen by accident. We need to think about ‘innovation horticulture’ — how best to manage the orchard.

Orange Grove

That’s a lesson which has been learned quietly by many organizations, who’ve been playing the innovation long game. Members of the ‘Hundred Club’, those who’ve survived and thrived over a century or more. Organizations which have ridden out some stormy weather by a commitment to innovation and to creating the kind of innovation system of which the ISO would be proud.

What they have in common is the ability to maintain what works, not just following fashion but carefully reviewing how they manage innovation on a regular basis. They’ve become skilled at enabling new growth through adding new routines, analogous to planting new saplings or grafting new strains on to old branches. Above all they’ve mastered the art of pruning to create space for this to happen.

This is the key part of the dynamic capability which innovation represents. The ability to step back and review, asking three simple questions. Of the innovation routines, the way we manage the process:

· What do we need to do more of, reinforce and strengthen?

· What do we need to do less of, even stop?

· And what new routines do we need to develop to cope with new challenges?

It’s as much about letting go as it is about adding new approaches. And it is crucially about strategically identifying where we need the new growth to come from. Just like a skilled gardener cuts back deep but also makes sure she has identified the spurs, the tiny buds which will provide the sites from which new things become possible.

This extended gardening metaphor might sound a little fanciful but we’ve got plenty of examples to illustrate it. Think about 3M, one of the longest established innovation gardens, still able to grow vigorously in new directions after well over a hundred years. During the early part of this century the company invested heavily in developing routines around six sigma and process improvement, securing significant gains in terms of productivity. But it soon became clear that the relentless focus on doing what they already did but better was driving out their capacity for breakthrough innovation. So the program was pruned to allow more exploration space. Importantly it wasn’t abandoned but rather trimmed back to enable new growth to come through.

Or Procter and Gamble, making the bold decision to cut back on the long (150 years) tradition of routines built around research and development and making the radical shift to a more open approach. ‘Connect and develop’ is now at the heart of how they innovate, drawing in a steady flow of ideas from outside the company alongside their internal capabilities. It has taken a quarter of a century for these new routines to mature but they now yield significant gains across the innovation spectrum.

Or the German company Hella, experiencing a key challenge around its rapid growth from being a successful 19th century start-up to a large established player. Its early experience helped create routines around new opportunities, triggered by new technologies and by discovering new market niches. There was plenty of innovation activity, a veritable hive of creativity with bees buzzing in and out working on a growing number of projects. But proliferating projects meant increasing costs and growing confusion around priorities which could only be solved by adding more minds to the mix. In the end the innovation engine began spinning out of control, overheating with all the innovation efforts.

It came to a head with a review which suggested that of the roughly 4000 products in the range at that time the vast majority took up time and effort but made little contribution. In particular it suggested that:

· 95 products were responsible for around 80% of turnover and 34% of R&D costs

· 305 were responsible for 15% turnover and 35% R&D

· 3100 were responsible for 5% of turnover and 31% of R&D !!!

The answer wasn’t to slam feet on the innovation brakes and stop. But it was about pruning, cutting back on most of the projects and focusing attention on those with strategic contributions to make. And having done this, to put in place new systems for project selection, portfolio management and regular staged reviews.

So whilst I’m still harboring doubts I’m hoping to see a bougainvillea renaissance beginning on my next visit. A sort of blooming version of ‘Field of Dreams’. As with baseball teams so with pergolas and bougainvillea bushes. Create the space — and the new growth will come.

Of course it’s not just about cutting back to make space in our innovation garden. The other side of this involves introducing new routines to enable new growth. But these by their nature will be young seedlings, not well-established trees. They need careful tending and experienced innovation gardeners understand the importance of supportive structures and growth regimes to help them take root. Using canes and trellises, introducing fertilizers and nutrients and above all keeping a careful eye on these early-stage experiments. They won’t all survive but those proto-routines of today could become critical capabilities in the future so it’s worth investing the time and effort now.

You can find my podcast here and my videos here

And if you’d like to learn with me take a look at my online course here

And subscribe to my (free) newsletter here

Image credits: Dall-E

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Navigating Uncertainty Requires a Map

Why map-making skills matter in innovation

Navigating Uncertainty Requires a Map

GUEST POST from John Bessant

There are some questions in life which can be answered quickly, no real thought required, simple yes/no options. Others might involve a longer period of time, perhaps a pleasant exploration of the possibilities. Philosophical enquiries, searching for meaning in life, the universe, everything….

But there’s one set of questions which brook no hesitation, which demand instant application to the task in hand. Those are concerned with ‘helping with daughter’s homework’ and which usually extend to occupy most of the available evening. Which is how I’ve found myself pondering the big question of ‘how can maps help us?’, as an accompaniment to trying to create with her a schematic map of our house and garden….

It’s easy to take maps for granted — but we’d be pretty stuck without them. Maps have been one of the most important human inventions for millennia, allowing humans to explain and navigate their way through the world. They seem to have been — independently invented by many cultures across the globe, and they’ve been around a very long time. Fragments etched on tusks or scratched on stones, dating back 25000 years or more all point to maps as something important. Which makes sense from an evolutionary point of view — it would help our survival a lot if we were able to chart where to find food, mark dangers, settle boundary disputes. Especially if we could share that knowledge with others.

And it’s not just maps of where we’ve been and how to get back there. Maps also drove exploration and enabled trade. Phoenician sailors way back 3000 years ago were managing long trips like discovering a way round Africa and the explosion of global trade and imperials expansion owes much to explorers like Magellan, Columbus, Drake and da Gama. Their voyages showed us that (a) the world isn’t flat with an edge you can fall off and (b) that there were impressive profits to be made if you could reliably head for (and more importantly come back from) exotic destinations like the spice islands. Maps were at the heart if this — and one reason why the Portuguese lost their early advantage to the Dutch East India company was the acquisition (by fair means or foul) of the key maps ….

Maps aren’t just passive guidebooks either. They can certainly help us get from (a) to (b) reliably and repeat the trick. But they also act as warnings, signposting where to go but also what to avoid and why — from ‘here be dragons’ markings on medieval charts through to today’s detailed lines of demarcation around danger areas.

And maps can set the rule of the game. Much of the work of early cartographers was charting not only the physical layout of land and sea but the political and economic one. Wars have a nasty habit of involving incursions into territory ‘owned’ by someone else. And maps continue to play a role in the political landscape — for example redrawing electoral boundaries isn’t simply a psephological exercise, it’s a power game.

So maps matter — and (as my daughter’s homework underlines) we need to learn to work with them, even in an age of GPS and automated guidance.

What has all this to do with innovation? Quite a lot in fact: maps and map-making provides a powerful metaphor for much of what we do when we try to manage the uncertain journey which innovation involves. There’s probably hundreds of applications of the idea but here are five which spring quickly to mind:

1. Navigating uncertainty

Innovation is all about uncertainty, it’s not simple planning but a probe into unknown territory. When we think about radical innovation we are certainly in the realm of high uncertainty, trying to feel our way through the fog. Even incremental innovation — doing what we do but better — has its surprises, like the diversions we might need to make on a well-used route because of road works or repairs.

So making even the crudest of sketch maps for ourselves might help, and using charts begged, borrowed or stolen from other voyagers would be a recommended strategy. After all someone else may have made a similar journey and there might be clues in their codified experience — a sort of ‘trip advisor’ resource, or (for those not yet familiar with the classic ‘Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) a guidebook plus maps with the important reassurance ‘Don’t panic!’ scrawled across the front cover.

Maps can warn of topographical challenges like rivers to be crossed or mountains to be climbed and in similar fashion making maps of the wider context in which our innovation is going to emerge will be helpful. For example, a healthcare start-up needs to map regulatory challenges, market demands, and technological barriers. Understanding these “elevations” and “obstacles” helps the company prepare strategies to overcome or navigate through them.

Maps come in many flavours, including exotics like ‘heat maps’ which can be useful in terms of analysing energy consumption for example (I got that one from Lara’s homework book). Same thing with innovation — sometimes ‘heat maps’ can help focus attention on key areas for development, for example in identifying market trends, customer preferences, and areas ripe for innovation.

Starbucks uses heat maps to analyze customer behaviour and preferences in different regions. This data helps the company identify hotspots where certain products or services are more popular, allowing for targeted marketing and product offerings. For example, Starbucks identified a growing trend in mobile ordering and payment, leading to the successful rollout of their mobile app, which has significantly enhanced customer convenience and engagement.

And, especially in service innovation, journey maps can help visualize the customer experience, detailing each touchpoint and interaction a customer has with a product or service. This helps in refining and improving the innovation to better meet customer needs.

Airbnb uses journey mapping to enhance the user experience for both hosts and guests. By mapping out every interaction a user has with the platform — from searching for a property to post-stay reviews — Airbnb identifies pain points and opportunities for improvement. This customer-centric approach has led to features like the Superhost program and streamlined booking processes, significantly enhancing overall user satisfaction.

2. Sharing the message

Innovation is a process, and anyone might get lucky once. The real skill lies in being able to repeat the trick, to recognise that it can be a managed process which depends on more than just luck. For which we need a map, some codified representation of what we’ve learned about how the process works and what to do about it.

Which is good news for people like me — our role has been to try and make sense of the hundred plus years of research and the reported experiences of tens of thousands of people to detect patterns — make maps — of how the process could be managed over time. What to do — and what not to do, much in the manner of early ‘here be dragons’ guidance. We’ve come a long way; our maps of the process are well-documented in text books, consulting offers and even at the heart of an International Standard (56001) for innovation management.

3. Forecasting and back-casting

Smart players of the innovation game don’t just grope their way through the fog and hope; they make use of futures tools to help develop a strategy — a map of where to go and what to do next, which steps to take. It’s a two-step process — forecasting involves looking forward, imagining and engaging the help of others to make more than random guesses, weaving them into coherent pictures of future scenarios. But it also involves back casting — working out how to get ‘there’ from ‘here’. Where and how to start?

That process is called road-mapping for a reason — it’s all about making relevant maps to guide our journey (and our resource commitment) into the future. You don’t get to launch a major new piece of software or a radical alternative product by simply pressing the ‘go’ button — it involves careful planning of each key stage from exploratory research through to prototype development, beta testing, market launch, and post-launch support. Each stage has specific goals, timelines, and checkpoints, helping the team stay focused and aligned with their objectives.

4. Simulation and pivoting, updating our maps

Drawing a map in the abstract, without understanding the conditions on the actual ground itself, is not a good approach to navigation. On account of the fact that maps are not the actual territory, they are a representation of that reality. Plenty of people have commented on this problem, from Prussian general von Moltke with his famous ‘no plan survives the first contact with the enemy’ through to boxer Mike Tyson’s more succinct version, ‘everybody has a plan until they get punched in the face!’

So we need the ability to revise our maps en route, improve them and press forward in a mode which Rita McGrath calls ‘discovery driven planning’ — map-making on the fly. These days this principle lies at the heart of ‘agile innovation’ and the ‘lean start-up’ model. Innovation involves testing assumptions , learning from feedback and course correcting — the innovation equivalent of GPS saying ‘off route, recalculating’.

For example, Netflix leverages real-time data analytics (akin to a GPS) to continuously adjust its content strategy. By monitoring viewer preferences and engagement in real-time, Netflix can quickly pivot its content offerings, invest in new shows, and even decide on canceling underperforming series.

The good news here is that we have a rich set of tools to help our adaptive cartography — simulations, FMEA, pre-mortems, etc. — which allow us to explore and change course before we actually hit the iceberg emerging through the fog.

An extreme variant of such map -making is the idea of ‘escape maps’ — escape routes developed to navigate out of a crisis. For example Toyota’s response to widespread recalls due to safety issues back in 2010 was to develop a crisis management plan to address the problems, communicate transparently with customers, and implement quality control improvements. This escape map helped Toyota navigate through the crisis, restore customer trust, and enhance its safety standards. But it also provided a resource on which they could build in the face of future challenges , like the supply-chain disruptions caused by earthquakes.

Collaborative cartography

5. Co-operative cartography

Innovation is a multi-player game and in todays’ borderless digital world that’s become more relevant than ever. Open innovation is all about collaboration and consortia, finding or building an ecosystem in which all players bring something to the party and when well orchestrated can create emergent properties. The whole becomes greater than the sum of the parts. And a key piece of this puzzle lies in the shared maps which they use for their collective journey.

Such maps may be built around something abstract but compelling — a vision into which people can buy, something which focuses their collective energies and points the way towards Treasure Island with enough for everyone. Platform businesses offer a good example of such collaboration, where platform owners orchestrate the players across a multi-sided market. Such arrangements depend on having clear maps of where and how shared value is created.

But a big part of the shared value ecosystem story is the fact that the ‘rules of the game’ are made explicit and become the boundaries and geography of the game. In other words the map of where and how the game will be played out. That’s often an underestimated aspect of the innovation story but it highlights the key role of cartography. Who is making the maps which set out the context within which shared value might be created?

Amazon, for example might see a future for drone delivery and be able to articulate the. vision, engage the technology companies, recruit the pilots, etc. But that innovation will only work if a key cartographer — in the case the FAA — adapts their tight control over airspace to permit it. (Which incidentally they have just done; they can now operate a beyond line of sight drone delivery service)

Malcom Mclean’s revolution in world trade catalysed by his containerisation innovation might have run aground at an early stage. His voyage might have involved ships stuck in port if he hadn’t managed to find a way of working alongside the unions who were key cartographers in that context.

Mobile money across Africa is nothing special, it’s just how things work in that world, even as we still marvel at the power of smart transactions on our phonies. This leap-frogging to a new financial world connecting millions of people has been enabled by innovations like M-PESA and its lookalikes and has ushered in a quiet revolution. Over half of Kenyan GDP runs across M-PESA’s platfrm) — but this massive social innovation, bringing banking and financial services to the unbanked, wouldn’t have been possible without the active support and smoothing of the pathway played by the central bank. Their role as cartographers, supporting and promoting the innovation has been central to its widespread adoption.

Uber uses a topographical map approach to understand the regulatory, market, and technological landscape when expanding its services globally. Each city and country had unique regulations, market demands, and infrastructure challenges. By mapping these out, Uber can try to tailor its strategies to navigate through regulatory hurdles, optimize its technology for local conditions, and address market-specific needs effectively.

So maps matter in innovation — and the skills of working with them seem worth developing. In particular three key skills ought to be at the fingertips of anyone working in the innovation space:

Map reading — if there’s one thing we’ve learned in an era of GPS and navigational accuracy measured in millimetres it’s that the best maps in the world can still lead you into trouble if you don’t know how to use them properly. GPS has an enviable track record of leading strangers on to rocks or to other unexpected places, one of which Ulysses’ sirens or the Lorelei Rhine-maidens would be proud.

We need to learn to use maps intelligently, checking our position and adjusting, correcting course, pivoting with the map as a guide. But maps are not a substitute for thinking about and actively managing our journey.

We know a lot about the innovation process so whether you’re a start-up entrepreneur or a team inside an established organization, the journey to create value from ideas doesn’t have to be a random one. Importantly we have maps for many different contexts — it’s not a case of one size fits all — so there is guidance for innovators working in the public sector or not for profit world as much as the commercial world

Map making — we also need the skill of constructing storylines, roadmaps into the future which provide us with the key information at key stages on the journey. We can use maps which others have prepared but it’s also important to develop our own skills , just as our ancestors would have found ways to communicate what they were learning. Embedding key questions around which we need to explore and chart is a key stage in the evolution of any business model — it’s a story which sets out where we’re trying get to and what we’re learning on the way. We need this to engage others and recruit their questions, experience and insight — and if we succeed we can offer our maps for others. After all there’s a booming market in offering templates for business models which can be adapted and configured to suit…

Co-operative cartographyscaling innovation involves building and managing an ecosystem so finding who are the key cartographers, and where and when the maps are made or revised, is critical. Sitting on standards committees working out product specifications may not sound the most inspiring innovation gig — but those standards matter, they are the maps of the future game. Big bets get made on the way standards will evolve and become accepted — think VHS/Betamax or more recent Blu-Ray/ Toshiba HD-DVD and the billions that involved.

But standards are only one part of the story. It’s not just committee work, it’s about engaging with cartographers on many levels, drawing them in, getting their support, buy-in, insight and influence. Think of an ed-tech solution which could transform the learning experiences of millions of children in rural Africa — and then try and introduce that without the support of the relevant Ministry of Education.

Or try and fight some of the powerful interests in trade unions or professional associations. Maybe wrestle with the regulatory thickets associated with trade bodies or government departments. Battle with the rules and those employed to make sure things are done by the book. Doesn’t take long before you realise that most changes don’t take place on a blank canvas — they involve negotiating a way through all sorts of obstacles. For which geography it would be helpful to have a map — but even more helpful to have a guide, someone who could help smooth or clear a path.

Learning to identify and recruit cartographers to your value network is increasingly a key skill in scaling innovation for impact.

Confused Traveler

So (back to our homework question) can maps help us ? In plenty of ways; we’d literally be lost without them. But the real question isn’t so much about whether they can help us but rather how we can best equip ourselves to create and use them….

You can find my podcast here and my videos here

And if you’d like to learn with me take a look at my online course here

And subscribe to my (free) newsletter here

Image credits: Pexels, John Bessant

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Hitching a Ride to Higher Productivity

How one man’s innovation provided the missing link for a 20th century agricultural revolution

Hitching a Ride to Higher Productivity

GUEST POST from John Bessant

There’s a lot of good stuff which comes out of Ireland. Leaving aside the wonderful music, the amazing countryside (complete with its ‘soft’ rain) and some excellent food and drink (including a drop or two of the black stuff to which I am occasionally partial). But it’s also a country which punches well above its weight in terms of ideas — it’s got a reputation for being a smart economy basing its progress on putting knowledge to work. Creating value from those ideas — innovation.

That’s something which you’ll find not only in the universities and hi-tech companies dotted across the landscape but also down on the farm. Farming’s a tough business — anyone who watches the series ‘Clarkson’s Farm,’ will recognize the multiple challenges farmers face, battling all that Nature can throw at them when she’s in a bad mood plus rising costs, increasing regulation and volatile markets. It’s a field (ouch) where innovation is not just a nice to have, it’s essential.

And in Dromara, County Down there’s a statue erected to honor a man to whom many farmers, not just in Ireland but around the world, have cause to be grateful. Harry Ferguson.

Of course farming innovation isn’t new; it’s been at the heart of our progress towards being able to feed ourselves and so move beyond subsistence to doing something constructive with our newly-found spare time. Like building cities and societies. Think back to your school days and you’ll recognize many of the key innovations which enabled the ‘agricultural revolution’, increasing productivity to help feed a growing population. The early days were all about ingenious implements — Jethro Tull’s seed drill, (1701), Cyril McCormick’s reaper (1840), John Deere’s steel plow (1847) — all these and hundreds of other innovations helped move the needle on farming practices.

But better implements still faced the limitations of power — and that aspect of innovation remained unchanged for centuries. We’d moved on from back-breaking manual labor but for centuries we relied on animals, primarily horses, to pull or occasionally push our implements. Power was the agricultural equivalent of the ‘philosophers stone’ for alchemists, the secret which would turn base metals into gold (or farms into more productive units). So with the advent of steam power in the early 1800s it looked like it had been discovered; as factories, mines and even early railways were showing, a steam engine could harness the power of many horses.

But (in an early example of the hype cycle) the promise of steam power failed to deliver — largely for technical reasons. Steam engines were big and heavy which meant they had to stay in one place with their power distributed to where it was needed by elaborate systems of pulleys, belts and wheels. They were unreliable and dangerous with an unpleasant tendency to explode unpredictably. For certain tasks they held out promise — they could plow a simple flat field ten times as fast as a team of horses— but their inflexibility limited their application.

Traction engines provided a partial solution since these machines could carry out basic tasks drilling and plowing. Though they were often too heavy to work directly on muddy fields they had the advantage of power which could quickly be moved to where they were needed. Set them up on the side of a field, hook them up to relevant implements like plows and put them to work. When the job was finished, uncouple everything and move on to the next field (as long as it was fairly flat and big).

(Interestingly it was the traction engine which inspired Henry Ford to work on transportation. Reflecting on his first encounter with a traction engine on the family farm he said ‘I remember that engine, as though I had seen it only yesterday, for it was the only vehicle other than horse-drawn I had ever seen….it was that engine that took me into automotive transportation’).

So steam power wasn’t really going to change the farming world. But another innovation was — the internal combustion engine. Engineers around the world had seized on the possibilities of this technology and were working to try and come up with a ‘horseless carriage’, something which Karl Benz managed to do with his Motorwagen in 1885 in Germany. It didn’t take a big leap of imagination to see another location where replacing horses could have an advantage — and John Froelich, an engineer from Iowa duly developed the first gasoline-powered tractor, mounting an engine on a traction engine chassis in 1892.

Unfortunately he wasn’t able to make the machine in volume, producing only four tractors before closing down the business. But others were more successful; for example in 1905 the International Harvester company produced its first tractor, and in 1906 Henry Ford invested over $600,000 in research for tractors, building on his growing experience with cars. An early outcome was the ‘Automobile plow’, a cross-over concept using the Model T as the base.

Pretty soon, just as in the personal transportation marketplace, hundreds of entrepreneurs began working on tractor innovation; a classic example of what Joseph Schumpeter (the godfather of innovation economics) would call ‘swarming’ behavior. By 1910 there were over a thousand tractor designs on offer from 150 different companies.

A key part of Schumpeter’s theory of how innovation works is that many of the early entrepreneurs active in a new field will fail, whether for technical or business reasons, and there will be convergence along key dimensions — setting up a technological trajectory along which future developments will tend to run.

That was certainly the case with tractors; key pieces of the puzzle were coming into place like an ability to deal with difficult terrain by using all-wheel drive (offered by John Deere in 1914) and the trend towards smaller (and more affordable) machines, pioneered by the Bull Company. Agricultural shows began to feature tractor demonstrations which allowed farmers to see first-hand the relative benefits of different machines and an early front runner in the move towards widespread market acceptance was International Harvester with their light and affordable Titan 10/20 model.

This was a growing market; by 1916 over 20,000 tractors had been sold in the USA. As with many innovations once the ‘dominant design’ has emerged for the basic product configuration emphasis shifts to the ways in which they can be made — process innovation. Those players — like Henry Ford — with experience in mass production had a significant potential advantage. His Fordson brand became the benchmark in terms of pricing and other manufacturers often struggled to compete unless they were large, like the John Deere company which offered its Model D in 1923 for around $1000. Ford had priced aggressively to try and capture the market, originally offering the Fordson for $200 in pre-sales advertising , but eventually selling the tractor in 1917 for $750 ( a price at which he was actually making a loss).

Ford understood the principle; he’d used it to open up the automobile market by offering ‘…to build a car for the great multitude’ at a price that multitude could afford. But things were a little more complex down on the farm. At first sight tractors seemed a great idea not least because of their running cost advantages. Animals, while a flexible source of power, were also a big cost since they needed food, shelter and veterinary services, plus there was an opportunity cost in terms of land needed to grow their feed which could otherwise be sued for more profitable crops. It took around 6 acres per horse over the farming year. Tractors ran on kerosene, becoming widely available and at low cost; and they only burned this fuel when they were working.

Ford’s strategy appeared to pay off; by 1923 he had over 75% of the US market . Yet only five years later things had deteriorated so much that the company exited the business. What led to this dramatic shift was a series of challenges to which cost advantages based on process innovation weren’t the answer. Product innovation once again became a key differentiator. This time the issue wasn’t around simply replacing the animal power unit with a mechanical one; it had everything to do with what you connected that power up to.

Early tractors solved the connection problem with a simple drawbar, essentially a metal stick to which you could attach different implements. Which worked fine when the going was flat, the surface dry, the field large and simple. Unfortunately most farming also involves uneven ground, plenty of mud and rain-filled potholes, trees and other obstacles and small fields with uneven boundaries. To cope with all of that you need a utility tractor — not for nothing was the IH Farmall a runaway success in the 1920s — the name says it all. Having spent a significant amount (for a small farmer) on buying your lightweight utility tractor you want it to carry out much more than just row crop duties — helping out with a wide range of construction and maintenance operations down on the farm,.

In particular one innovation which helped endear International Harvester to many a farmer’s heart was the ‘power take off’ device — essentially making power available to be hooked up to a variety of different implements. Introduced in 1922 this opened up the market by massively increasing the versatility of tractor. All manner of attachments — seed drills, rotary cutters, posthole diggers, snow throwers — all could be run off the core PTO. We could draw an analogy to today’s IT world; buying a tractor without the ability to attach tools to it would be like buying a computer without software.

Which brings us back to Harry Ferguson (in case you thought we’d lost the Irish connection). Because connecting farm implements to tractors became his passion — and the basis for a highly successful business. In doing so he provided the platform on which so much could happen, much as Steve Jobs with the smart-phone enabled users to find and deploy the apps they wanted . And along the way he was able to help Henry Ford re-enter and revive his tractor business.

Ferguson was born 1884 in County Down, Ulster and grew up in a farming family — though he wasn’t particularly taken with the life. Nor was he that keen on school either, dropping out at the age of 14. What saved him was a love of reading and a fascination with all things mechanical — which in the early 20th century was a good interest to have. His brother helpfully opened a repair shop to cater to the emerging motor trade and Harry joined him, kindling enough focused motivation to study at Belfast Technical College. Arguably, though, his skill set was less around the mechanical detail than in the front office — sales and PR. He persuaded his brother to sponsor him and he proved adept at motor car and cycle racing — even persuading his brother to fund the development of Ireland’s first airplane which Harry then learned to fly!

Eventually he set up his own automobile business, May Street Motors, in Belfast in 1911 and one of his first appointments (a 21 year old mechanic, Willy Sands) proved to be crucial in his subsequent success. Sands was a gifted engineer; he remained with Ferguson for nearly fifty years, working in the backroom and helping develop the technologies which built business success.

Ferguson was quick to spot an opportunity in the emerging tractor market and managed to obtain a franchise for sales and service of the John Deere Overtime tractor which was being built in the UK. That gave Ferguson and Sands extensive experience in the way the tractor was put together, the repairs it needed and the context into which it was being applied.

The miseries of the Great War on the home front included food shortages and problems with imports so the British government were urgently seeking anything which could help out with farm productivity — including subsidizing investment in tractors. Harry played a part in this when he was given a contract for the Irish Board of Agriculture in 1917 to oversee government-owned tractor maintenance and production records. The duo traveled the country to advise farmers, help set up equipment like plows and understanding the problems farmers faced in deploying the tractor. For example soil compaction, caused by the heavy weight of tractors and plows of the time, was a common complaint.

All of this honed their skills at repairs and improvements to the current stock of tractors in Ireland; their next break came when conversion kits for the Model T car began to appear to create a car/tractor. Ferguson took a franchise for the Eros, a kit which involved putting larger rear wheels on the car, together with a chain transmission to them and installing a bigger radiator to cope with the engine load. His experience with farmers paid off; he realized that this lighter weight car/tractor could solve the soil compaction problem and so got Sands to design a lightweight plow for the Eros.

This — the ‘Belfast plow’ — was launched in 1917 and was the first farm implement bearing Ferguson’s name; it was half the weight of a standard plow and crucially used a clever idea for the hitch connecting the tractor to the plow. This meant that the load from pulling the plow was shared equally by all four wheels instead of just the rear ones; this made it easier to steer and drive.

But Henry Ford was not about to let the tractor opportunity market fall into the hands of conversion kits for Model Ts; instead he commissioned design and manufacture of his own tractor with a large slow turning engine. He persuaded the British Ministry of Munitions to purchase 6000 units in return for his setting up a factory in Ireland. The Fordson tractor (as it was called) arrived in 1917 but quickly ran into problems as farmers began to use it. In particular it had a worrying tendency to flip over on its back if it hit an obstacle; its powerful engine and the relative lack of weight on the front end meant it could be pulled over by an obstacle or an unexpected drag while plowing. Nonetheless its arrival spelt the end of conversion kits — and dealt a blow to Harry Ferguson’s dream.

He was nothing if not resilient; in true entrepreneurial style he turned the arrival in force of Fordsons to an opportunity, adapting his lightweight plow for use with the tractor. In particular they worked on their hitch system so that it helped overcome the tendency for the front wheels to rear up; their design included a clever depth control device — a floating skid — which stopped the problem happening when the plow dug too deep and pulled the tractor over.

This worked well with the plow but for other implements they realized depth control could be enabled by the use of a hydraulic lever which adapted to the terrain. Putting all of this together led them to a system which worked on a variety of implements including disc harrows and cultivators. In 1925 Ferguson was granted a patent for this three point hitch — and it became the basis on which he built his future success. It was the key to unlocking the puzzle of how to connect power to implements and became the dominant design, one which is still widely used today.

The significance of this design should not be underestimated, and it’s something explored in depth in an excellent review by Scott Marshaus at the University of Wisconsin. Even though other factors helped contribute to the major increase in agricultural productivity like fertilizers, better seed strains and environmental management of pests the importance of completing the mechanization cycle is central. Yes, you can replace horses and mules with machine power but you can’t plant the seeds or distribute the chemicals unless you have the means to connect power with application. Which was the problem that Ferguson did so much to solve.

Just when all looked promising the market weather changed once again, another shift triggered by the business strategy of Ford. After years of making a loss the company decided to exit the tractor market in 1927, choosing instead to concentrate resources on their new Model A automobile. Which left Ferguson with no market for his Fordson-fitting plow.

So he (and Sands, as ever working away diligently in the backroom) developed their own lightweight tractor based on the Fordson design. They included their 3 point hitch and the prototype ‘Black Tractor’ appeared in 1933. Ferguson then went into partnership with the David Brown company to manufacture what became known as the Ferguson Brown Model A; production started in 1936. Disagreements quickly followed with Brown wanting to make a bigger tractor so Ferguson pulled out of the venture.

Instead he took one of the production Model A tractors into Henry Ford’s back garden — literally. In 1938 he showed it off and tested it against the Fordson and another tractor from Allis-Chalmers at Ford’s Fair Lane country estate. It performed so well that Ford wanted to make a deal on the spot and after brief discussion the two men shook hands. This handshake deal put a version of the tractor, called the Ford-Ferguson Model 9N into production in 1939 and it sold over 10,000 in its first year. By 1940 the factory was churning out 150 per day.

All should have been plain sailing but Ferguson’s prickly nature posed problems. He was, in many ways, a classic example of an entrepreneur, seeking opportunity wherever he could find it and adapting setbacks to become new directions for development. However he was also, according to his biographer Colin Fraser, ‘someone who combined the extremes of subtlety, naiveté, charm, rudeness, brashness, modesty, largesse and pettiness; and the switch from any one to another could be abrupt and unpredictable. And, he had a penchant for confrontation.”

He had hoped that Ford in the UK would start production after the end of WW2 and he wanted a seat on the board; when this was rejected he threatened to walk away and start production on his own. But his position was weak; what he didn’t know was that Henry Ford 2nd, who took over in 1945, had discovered that the tractor business was still losing money at a desperate rate. He also discovered that the Ford-Ferguson 2N was being sold at a loss to Ferguson for resale to his dealers, an arrangement that cost Ford $25 million. Not surprisingly Ford wanted to stop and Ferguson was advised that 1947 would be the last year of the handshake agreement.

Ferguson fought back, putting his own version of the Ferguson/Ford tractor into production in 1946 in a war-surplus British factory. But competing with Ford was always going to be difficult; in response Ford introduced a new version, the Ford Model 8N in 1947, conspicuously missing the ‘Ferguson’ name from the badge. Ford’s engineers had tried to improve and sidestep Ferguson’s patented ideas but the core 3 point hitch and hydraulic system were retained. Although Ford’s marketing and distribution muscle backed him into a corner Ferguson in turn fought back, suing Ford in 1948 for $251 million for infringement of these patents.

Ferguson eventually won the bitter dispute and used some of the $9.25 damages agreed to continue to make tractors in the UK. But his attempts at working independently in the USA failed and eventually he merged his business with the Massey-Harris company in 1953.He retired from the tractor business but continued to develop ideas for the world of motor sport, including creating the first four wheel-drive system for use on Formula One racing cars.

He died in 1960 as a result of a barbiturate overdose; the inquest was unable to conclude whether this had been accidental or not. A sad end for someone whose passion and drive had helped enable the later stages of the agricultural revolution. But he left a powerful innovation footprint in farming soil all around the world. remembered in the tractor brand which bears his name and in the 3 point hitch design which is still in widespread use.

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Artificial Intelligence is a No-Brainer

Why innovation management needs co-intelligence

Artificial Intelligence is a No-Brainer

GUEST POST from John Bessant

Long fuse, big bang. A great descriptor which Andrew Hargadon uses to describe the way some major innovations arrive and have impact. For a long time they exist but we hardly notice them, they are confined to limited application, there are constraints on what the technology can do and so on. But suddenly, almost as if by magic they move center stage and seem to have impact everywhere we look.

Which is pretty much the story we now face with the wonderful world of AI. While there is plenty of debate about labels — artificial intelligence, machine learning, different models and approaches — the result is the same. Everywhere we look there is AI — and it’s already having an impact.

More than that; the pace of innovation within the world of AI is breath-taking, even by today’s rapid product cycle standards. We’ve become used to seeing major shifts in things like mobile phones, change happening on a cycle measured in months. But AI announcements of a breakthrough nature seem to happen with weekly frequency.

That’s also reflected in the extent of use — from the ‘early days’ (only last year!) of hearing about Chat GPT and other models we’ve now reached a situation where estimates suggest that millions of people are experimenting with them. Chat GPT has grown from a handful of people to over 200 million in less than a year; it added its first million subscribers within five days of launch! Similar figures show massive and rapid take -up of competing products like Anthropic’s Claude and Google’s Gemini, etc. It’s pretty clear that there’s a high-paced ‘arms race’ going on and it’s drawing in all the big players.

This rapid rate of adoption is being led by an even faster proliferation on the supply side, with many new players entering the market , especially in niche fields. As with the apps market there’s a huge number of players jumping on the bandwagon, and significant growth in the open source availability of models. And many models now allow for users to create their own custom versions — mini-GPTs’ and ‘Co-pilots’ which they can deploy for highly specific needs.

Not surprisingly estimates suggest that the growth potential in the market for AI technologies is vast, amounting to around 200 billion U.S. dollars in 2023 and expected to grow to over 1.8 trillion U.S. dollars by 2030.

Growth in Artificial Intelligence

There’s another important aspect to this growth. As Ethan Mollick suggests in his excellent book ‘Co-intelligence’, everything that we see AI doing today is the product of a far-from-perfect version of the technology; in very short time, given the rate of growth so far, we can expect much more power, integration and multi-modality.

The all-singing, dancing and doing pretty much anything else version of AI we can imagine isn’t far off. Speculation about when AGI — artificial general intelligence — will arrive is still just that — speculative — but the direction of travel is clear.

Not that the impact is seen as entirely positive. Whilst there have been impressive breakthroughs, using AI to help understand and innovate in fields as diverse as healthcare , distribution and education these are matched by growing concern about, for example, privacy and data security, deep-fake abuse and significant employment effects.

With its demonstrable potential for undertaking a wide range of tasks AI certainly poses a threat to the quality and quantity of a wide range of jobs — and at the limit could eliminate them entirely. And where earlier generations of technological automation impacted simple manual operations or basic tasks AI has the capacity to undertake many complex operations — often doing so faster and more effectively than humans.

AI models like Chat GPT can now routinely pass difficult exams for law or medical school, they can interpret complex data sets and spot patterns better than their human counterparts and they can quickly combine and analyze complex data to arrive at decisions which may often be better quality than those made by even experienced practitioners. Not surprisingly the policy discussion around this potential impact has proliferated at a similarly fast rate, echoing growing public concern about the darker side of AI.

But is it inevitable going to be a case of replacement, with human beings shunted to the side-lines? No-one is sure and it is still early days. We’ve had technological revolutions before — think back fifty years to when we first felt the early shock waves of what was to become the ‘microelectronics revolution’. Newspaper headlines and media programs with provocative titles like ‘Now the chips are down’ prompted frenzied discussion and policy planning for a future world staffed by robots and automated to the point where most activity would be undertaken by automated systems, overseen by one man and a dog. The role of the dog being to act as security guard, the role of the man being confined to feeding the dog.

Automation Man and Dog

This didn’t materialize; as many commentators pointed out at the time and as history has shown there were shifts and job changes but there was also compensating creation of new roles and tasks for which new skills were needed. Change yes — but not always in the negative direction and with growing potential for improving the content and quality of remaining and new jobs.

So if history is any guide then there are some grounds for optimism. Certainly we should be exploring and anticipating and particularly trying to match skills and capacity building to likely future needs.

Not least in the area of innovation management. What impact is AI having — and what might the future hold? It’s certainly implicated in a major shift right across the innovation space in terms of its application. If we take a simple ‘innovation compass’ to map these developments we can find plenty of examples:

Exploring Innovation Space

Innovation in terms of what we offer the world — our products and services — here AI already has a strong presence in everything from toys through intelligent and interactive services on our phones through to advanced weapon systems

And it’s the same story if we look at process innovation — changes in the ways we create and deliver whatever it is we offer. AI is embedded in automated and self-optimizing control systems for a huge range of tasks from mining, through manufacturing and out to service delivery.

Position innovation is another dimension where we innovate in opening up new or under-served markets, and changing the stories we tell to existing ones. AI has been a key enabler here, helping spot emerging trends, providing detailed market analysis and underpinning so many of the platform businesses which effectively handle the connection between multi-sided markets. Think Amazon, Uber, Alibaba or AirBnB and imagine them without the support of AI.

And innovation is possible through rethinking the whole approach to what we do, coming up with new business models. Rethinking the underlying value and how it might be delivered — think Spotify, Netflix and many others replacing the way we consume and enjoy our entertainment. Once again AI step forward as a key enabler.

AI is already a 360 degree solution looking for problems to attach to. Importantly this isn’t just in the commercial world; the power of AI is also being harnessed to enable social innovation in many different ways.

But perhaps the real question is not about AI-enabled innovations but one of how it affects innovators — and the organizations employing them? By now we know that innovation isn’t some magical force that strikes blindly in the light bulb moment. It’s a process which can be organized and managed so that we are able to repeat the trick. And after over 100 years of research and documenting hard-won experience we know the kind of things we need to put in place — how to manage innovation. It’s reached the point where we can codify it into an international standard — ISO 56001- and use this as a template to check out the ways in which we build and operate our innovation management systems.

So how will AI affect this — and, more to the point, how is it already doing so? Let’s take our helicopter and look down on where and how AI playing a role in the key areas of innovation management systems.

Typically the ‘front end’ of innovation involves various kinds of search activity, picking up strong and weak signals about needs and opportunities for change. And this kind of exploration and forecasting is something which AI has already shown itself to be very good at — whether in the search for new protein forms or the generation of ideas for consumer products.

Frank Piller’s research team published an excellent piece last year describing their exploration of this aspect of innovation. They looked at the potential which AI offered and tested their predictions out by tasking Chat GPT with a number of prompts based on the needs of a fictitious outdoor activities company. They had it monitoring and picking up on trends, scraping online communities for early warning signals about new consumer themes and, crucially, actually doing idea generation to come up with new product concepts. Their results mimic many other studies which suggest that AI is very good at this — in fact, as Mollick reports, it often does the job better than humans.

Of course finding opportunities is only the start of the innovation process; a key next stage is some kind of strategic selection. Out of all the possibilities of what we could do, what are we going to do and why? Limited resources mean we have to make choices — and the evidence is that AI is pretty helpful here too. It can explore and compare alternatives, make better bets and build more viable business models to take emerging value propositions forward. (At least in the test case where it competed against MBA students…!)

Innovation Process John Bessant

And then we are in the world of implementation, the long and winding road to converting our value proposition into something which will actually work and be wanted. Today’s agile innovation involves a cycle of testing, trial and error learning, gradually pivoting and homing in on what works and building from that. And once again AI is good at this — not least because it’s at the heart of how it does what it does. There’s a clue in the label — machine learning is all about deploying different learning and improvement strategies. AI can carry out fast experiments and focus in, it can simulate markets and bring to bear many of the adoption influences as probabilistic variables which it can work with.

Of course launching a successful version of a value proposition converted to a viable solution is still only half the innovation journey. To have impact we need to scale — but here again AI is likely to change the game. Much of the scaling journey involves understanding and configuring your solution to match the high variability across populations and accelerate diffusion. We know a lot about what influences this (not least thanks to the extensive work of Everett Rogers) and AI has particular capabilities in making sense of the preferences and predilections of populations through studying big datasets. It’s record in persuasion in fields like election campaigning suggests it has the capacity to enhance our ability to influence the innovation adoption decision process.

Scaling also involves complementary assets — the ‘who else?’ and ‘what else?’ which we need to have impact at scale. We need to assemble value networks, ecosystems of co-operating stakeholders — but to do this we need to be able to make connections. Specifically finding potential partners, forming relationships and getting the whole system to perform with emergent properties, where the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

And here too AI has an growing track record in enabling recombinant innovation, cross-linking, connecting and making sense of patterns, even if we humans can’t always see them.

So far, so disturbing — at least if you are a practicing innovation manager looking over your shoulder at the AI competition rapidly catching up. But what about the bigger picture, the idea of developing and executing an innovation strategy? Here our concern is with the long-term, managing the process of accumulating competencies and capabilities to create long term competitiveness in volatile and unpredictable markets?

It involves being able to imagine and explore different options and make decisions based on the best use of resources and the likely fit with a future world. Which is, once again, the kind of thing which AI has shown itself to be good at. It’s moved a long way from playing chess and winning by brute calculating force. Now it can beat world champions at complex games of strategy like Go and win poker tournaments, bluffing with the best of them to sweep the pot.

Artificial Intelligence Poker Player

So what are we left with? In many ways it takes us right back to basics. We’ve survived as a species on the back of our imaginations — we’re not big or fast, or able to fly, but we are able to think. And our creativity has helped us devise and share tools and techniques, to innovate our way out of trouble. Importantly we’ve learned to do this collectively — shared creativity is a key part of the puzzle.

We’ve seen this throughout history; the recent response to the Covid-19 pandemic provides yet another illustration. In the face of crisis we can work together and innovate radically. It’s something we see in the humanitarian innovation world and in many other crisis contexts. Innovation benefits from more minds on the job.

So one way forward is not to wring our hands and say that the game is over and we should step back and let the AI take over. Rather it points towards us finding ways of working with it — as Mollick’s book title suggests, learning to treat it as a ‘co-intelligence’. Different, certainly but often in in complementary ways. Diversity has always mattered in innovation teams — so maybe by recruiting AI to our team we amplify that effect. There’s enough to do in meeting the challenge of managing innovation against a background of uncertainty; it makes sense to take advantage of all the help we can get.

AI may seem to point to a direction in which our role becomes superfluous — the ‘no-brain needed’ option. But we’re also seeing real possibilities for it to become an effective partner in the process.

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Image credits: Dall-E via Microsoft CoPilot, John Bessant

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Irrelevant Innovation

Irrelevant Innovation

GUEST POST from John Bessant

Why change is not always a good thing….

Forget about the ice truckers who haul their precious cargoes across frozen lakes and tundra in the Arctic Circle. Or those heroes who service remote islands in the Pacific or who fly into inaccessible airstrips in the rainforests. They are doing a tough job, undoubtedly — but we should accept that perhaps the hardest haulage challenge in the world has to be that of getting a seven-year-old back to school after the spring break. Motivating muscles to power little legs school-ward (even if the journey is downhill) and placing a smile of anticipation on her face at the prospect of six hours experiencing the joys of learning is not an easy task.

So in one of my many desperate attempts to put a spring back in her step (if not the broader British climate) was to suggest we invent some crazy new things as we trudged our way. Come up with some ideas for wild inventions, the less practical and the more outlandish, the better.

The exercise worked in terms of smoothing the school journey and distracting a daughter. But it also got me thinking — we spend so much of our time thinking about important innovation but maybe we should spare a thought for what might be called ‘irrelevant innovation’? And explore round the edges of this phenomenon — is it all wacky stuff or are there circumstances where it has more to offer? Is it a matter of framing, are we missing an innovation trick or two by dismissing such ideas too early?

Innovation Typology

So here’s a suggested outline typology, a first shot at mapping the territory — feel free to add your own examples and categories….

1. WTF?!!!

These are the ideas that leap out at you from the screen or jump up from the page with a fistful of questions. Like what were they thinking of, who dreamed this up (and what were they on when they did so), who on earth would want this or maybe just a pure, simple and very large why? For example patenting the cheese flavoured cigarette? Or the musical flame-thrower? Sometimes a closer look might reveal the originator’s tongue firmly wedged in their cheek, these are elaborate jokes and nudges to remind us not to take innovation life too seriously. But all too often they have the stamp of sincerity about them — someone really believes that what the world needs now is their invention. Like, for example, the urban window baby cage, in which (for high rise apartment dwellers) your child can get plenty of fresh air by being suspended outside the window, hundreds of feet off the ground…..

These are easy to spot and throw into the rubbish bin — but maybe we shouldn’t be too quick to apply our BS filters and dismiss them. After all history reminds us that sometimes we need visionaries, those who can see into the future and bring back wild ideas which become part of that future. Apple’s famous ad campaign around ‘Think different’ had Richard Dreyfus turning our collective heads towards ‘the crazy ones….the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers — the round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently…..” Which echoes the great playwright George Bernard Shaw’s observation that ‘ all progress depends on unreasonable men…’. Trouble is that the line between crazy and visionary is often vanishingly thin.

Think about Nikoloai Tesla who did a lot more than lend his name to a car brand; without his insights we wouldn’t have much of the electricity generation technology we rely on today, not to mention valuable innovations around radio, lighting, transportation, etc. But we didn’t get earthquake generating machines, thought cameras, supersonic airships, ‘death-beams’ or artificial tidal waves — which may be a good thing. Melissa Schilling in her excellent book of the same name classes people like Tesla as ‘quirky’ and that word captures their character traits well. It’s also worth noting that we tend to label ordinary folk who come up with oddball stuff as variations on crazy — but if the ideas originate from billionaires who’ve built their fortune on innovation we use the more forgiving ‘eccentric’ descriptor….

2. Bouncing back off the wall.

You can almost see the creative moment, late night, fuelled by questionable alcohol or other stimulants, that point where the conversation explodes around a key wild thought. Like ‘let’s convince people that what they really need is a …pet rock!’. Innovations of this kind start life as a crazy idea but somehow along the way they acquire a momentum of their own. A community of users — or perhaps co-conspirators — emerges which brings the thing to life and creates its own use case. Gary Dahl’s madcap thought about pet rocks led to him selling over 10,000 of them every day; at the height of the craze several tons of nearly 2 million of them were being adopted. (You can still buy them today if you’re wanting a low maintenance companion). Or how about changing your eating habits and improving your digestion by using a ‘slow fork’ next time you sit down to a meal? Or pick up a ‘no-phone’, looks like the real thing but actually has zero functionality inside? Or the ‘selfie toaster which produces toast with your image on it?

3. Following the Yellow Brick Road — sometimes innovations build on well-established trajectories but lead us to unexpected and irrelevant places. Packaging offers plenty of examples — it’s become a huge industry and of central importance in food retailing and distribution, to help preserve integrity, freshness and safety. But take a closer look at the contents of your supermarket trolley (or your home delivery order). Do we really need our bananas shrink wrapped and encased in plastic trays? Or whole nuts inside plastic cartons? It took Nature several million years to evolve some useful natural protection — do we really need to update it? Do we need a personal pocket water spray when we could splash ourselves at the sink? Or leaf blowers that serve to create miniature sandstorms?

4. On second thoughts…..

Confession time — in my research on ‘wacky inventions’ I came across several Japanese sites which feature oddball innovations including a miniature umbrella which you could wear as a hat. Who would ever really want something like that and why? Some rapid reframing was in order when my wife not only bought one enthusiastically but then proceeded to deploy it in the garden, demonstrating its considerable advantages over hats (which fall off) or hooded jackets (which lock your arms up like a straitjacket and obscure your vision). This device keeps her dry enough for enough the most delicate gardening tasks — and made me rapidly revise my estimate of it!

Innovations like these might appear unnecessary but sometimes there’s more to them — beauty (or at least value) really is in the eye of the beholder and maybe we need to practise a little reframing? Maybe the ‘floor cleaning onesie’ (a baby outfit which polishes your floors while your offspring are crawling around) isn’t such a bad idea after all?

5. String and sealing wax creations.

Necessity or sometimes frustration is a very fecund mother of invention and this plays out big-time in the world of user innovation. As extensive research has shown users are responsible for a significant amount of product and process innovation. Studies suggest over 20% of new products and an even higher proportion of process innovations originate in the hands of users — because they are actively seeking a solution to a problem which bothers them. Couple this with a tolerance for imperfection — they will experiment with prototypes which work even if they look a bit odd and lack design elegance. So many of those early hacks and minimum viable workarounds might look crazy but could be the start of something which becomes a mainstream innovation. Think of where many new sports (like skateboarding) originate or where childcare innovations (like collapsible buggies or disposable diapers) began and the oddball user is often clearly in view……

6. Seemed like a good idea at the time…

Sometimes (back to trajectories) we can extrapolate trends to create apparently interesting opportunities and then go on to innovate something irrelevant. The wonderful Museum of Failure in Sweden (and online) has plenty of examples including a sizeable number from big companies. Anticipating the time poor commuters across big cities like New York and recognising the nutritional challenges in a diet consisting of snatched snacks the food giant Gerber came up with a line of quality adult foods which could be consumed quickly from a jar. Sort of spooning up adult baby food in grown up flavours like ‘Mediterranean vegetables’ …… Perhaps not surprisingly it didn’t take off.

And despite having proved his innovation skills in the field of home computers where his ZX80 range opened up the mass market for the product in Europe Clive Sinclair’s venture into electromobility — the C5 — became a byword for how not to do innovation. At some point some kind of ‘reality distortion field’ seems to come into play for the innovators — an experience well documented in the excellent history of the Segway personal transportation revolution that never quite happened….

Clive Sinclair C5 Wikipedia

7. Wrong place, wrong time

Timing in innovation as much as in stand-up comedy, is everything. And sometimes the great idea on which many people have worked arrives perfectly formed and well-thought out but at totally the wrong moment. Take the Bristol Brabazon — originally conceived as a breakthrough aeroplane design to exploit the anticipated huge market growth in long-haul international air travel in the post-war period. Based on a design for a giant long-range bomber, which was approved by the Ministry of Aviation for development in 1943 it took shape in consultation with the UK national airline, BOAC. Like many projects it took on a life of its own; the budget rapidly escalated, with the construction of new facilities to accommodate such a large plane and, at one stage, the demolition of an entire village in order to extend the runway at Filton, near Bristol. Many unnecessary features were included — for example, the mock-up contained ‘a most magnificent ladies’ powder room with wooden aluminium-painted mirrors and even receptacles for the various lotions and powders used by the modern young lady’. The prototype took six-and-a half years to build and involved major technical crises with wings and engine design but eventually it flew, and very well. The only problem was that the character of the postwar aircraft market was very different from that envisaged by the technologists and in 1952, after flying less than 1000 miles, the project was abandoned at considerable cost to the taxpayer.

8. Coming too early to the party

Sometimes it’s the other way around, innovations arriving ahead of, rather than behind their time and looking around in embarrassment at the handful of other early bird party guests, trying to interest them. Markets that have yet to materialise or, very often, technologies that have yet to mature. Step forward Apple and the Newton or Google’s Glasses? These are examples where the particular embodiment of the innovation didn’t quite make it and appeared unnecessary or irrelevant — but where the learning acquired through such failure has proved invaluable in terms of shaping future successful direction (s).

9. Blind spots

And of course we should spare a thought for otherwise great ideas which suffer from a lack of insight into the context in which they might find themselves. For example there are plenty of cases where a simple and apparently useful name can turn out to have unfortunate consequences when placed in a different linguistic or cultural zone. Think of French kids growing up happily drinking bottles of a fizzy drink with the unfortunate (in English-speaking contexts) name of ‘Psschitt’ or their Ghanaian counterparts who enjoy a draught of Pee Cola (not so popular with tourists).

Everett Rogers spent his lifetime researching adoption and diffusion of innovations and one of the cardinal lessons he drew out of thousands of studies was the need to think carefully about compatibility — how well does your innovation fit into the context in which you’re planning to place it?

The moral of this story? First, creativity is a powerful motivator, not least when your primary aim is getting recalcitrant children to school. We’re (fortunately) hard-wired for it and our imaginations sometimes lead us to come up with end even try crazy stuff out. (And, as the Darwin awards regularly demonstrate, there is an element of natural selection involved which helps us avoid the really bad ideas!)

But not every wild idea is worthless; one of the early lessons I learned about creativity was the importance of what Tudor Rickards called ‘stepping stones’ — oddball ideas in themselves which serve to take our minds down different pathways and may lead to somewhere useful.

And framing matters — in two directions. First we need to hammer home the compatibility lesson taught us by Everett Rogers — innovations don’t exist in a vacuum and we need to think about compatibility with the context into which we’re placing them.

But second, how far can we adapt the frame we place around an innovation, how far are we willing to stretch our own thinking and behaviour to accommodate it? Think of the science-fiction images of ideas like a smart wristwatch which wakes you, talks to you, enables communication, acts as a map and compass combined — and also tells you the time. Literally incredible, unbelievable — until we all started to buy and wear smart watches….

But perhaps we should also think of those innovations which started out as important, relevant and useful things which offered to make significant positive impact. But which — like DDT and many others — later turned out to have negative consequences. ‘Responsible innovation’ is the term used to describe an approach which involves carefully considering what innovations might do and trying to anticipate their possible unwanted side effects and making sure we have the capacity to shape (and, if necessary, reshape) them for good. In the exploding world of innovation possibilities which AI is bringing this looks like an essential rather than optional approach to take.

You can find my podcast here and my videos here

And if you’d like to learn with me take a look at my online course here

Image credits: Dall-E via Microsoft CoPilot, Wikipedia

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Learning About Innovation – From a Skateboard?

How learning about innovation can come from unlikely directions…

Learning about innovation - from a skateboard?

GUEST POST from John Bessant

What have ollies, decks, trucks, popsicles, cruisers and kicktails got in common? If you’d asked me that back in December I would have quietly assumed you were from another planet. But now I’m happy to say I’m in a good position to enlighten you…

It seemed like a good idea for a Christmas present; Lara had trailed it enough to give us a clue that Father Christmas’s arrival with a skateboard in his sack would be a welcome surprise. And the initial impact was decidedly so; unwrapping a bright blue machine with impressive decoration and wheels which lit up as she sped along the corridor in the first test flights.

So it was a good job that the present included a full safety kit of helmet, knee and elbow pads, etc. because she spent much of the next day crashing into bookcases, doors and anything else unfortunate enough to be in the way of her hurtling progress. And that was just inside the house!

Cue the need for some training in the art of riding a skateboard. Since this is a skillset which I am most certainly not in possession of this led me to outsource the problem to our local indoor skateboard park where I booked a couple of lessons. Turned out to be an education for me too; while sheltering from the noise of kids shouting encouragement and challenge at each other and the rumble of wheels over plywood ramps and chicanes I sipped my coffee and thought about some of the innovation lessons it was demonstrating….

Not least the power of innovation to create a whole new market. I had no idea just how big a business skateboarding had become but a quick dive into my phone revealed some impressive facts. Estimates suggest the market size is of the order of $3.2bn in 2022 and forecast to keep growing at 3.5% over the next ten years. That’s a lot of skateboards on the streets and in specialist parks like the one I’m in. Extending my research I came to realise what a sheltered life I’ve been leading — there’s a whole world out there beyond the simple piece of wood on wheels that I thought it was.

And it’s an industry full of innovation. I use something called the ‘4Ps framework’ to explain the different ways you can innovate to my classes — it’s a sort of ‘innovation compass’ that points the different directions you might explore. Skateboarding’s got all of these and plenty of examples.

First there’s product innovation — from core components like wheels and bearings, boards and safety equipment through to fashion and merchandise. The early days saw the emergence of what I now know is called a ‘streetboard’ as a basic design; it still represents nearly half the market in terms of boards sold and has standardised around some core dimensions. They are often called ‘popsicle boards’ (don’t ask me why) and they are the kind of board you’ll typically see out in the streets.

But there’s also the longboard variant which is growing in significance. As its name suggests it’s longer but also lighter and faster on account of its wheel size and construction materials. This — as Lara points out to me, already dissatisfied with her glamourous but un-tricksy popsicle board — is the kind of board you use for performing tricks, racing, freestyling and even dancing. Plus we’ve now got the new wave of electric boards which bring another dimension to the sport, potentially opening up the personal mobility market.

And each of those boards involves multiple contributing streams of innovation around components. Take something as mundane as wheels; naively I assumed they were just roller skate or suitcase wheels attached to a piece of wood. Nope. The early days of metal wheels were fraught with poor performance, high friction and a lot of collateral damage to the surfaces being ridden on. So non-metallic alternatives emerged, from simple clay versions in the 1960s through to today’s polyurethane variants based on Frank Nasworthy’s 1972 invention. This latest iteration also provides an opportunity to build in some of the fancy display electronics which Lara finds such a draw on her board.

Even the humble bearings inside the wheels turn out to be a key innovation step, moving from simple loose ball bearings to sophisticated engineered precision bearings which last longer and give a smooth ride even under the tortuous twists and turns of a ride round the skateboard park.

Or look at the trucks on which the wheels are fitted. They’ve moved from being simple cross-over fixtures taken from roller skating to becoming a high tech branch of the component world, continuously refined to give better turning radius, stability, and control allowing for more complex manoeuvres and tricks. Classic need pull innovation.

Skateboard product innovation also provides an excellent example of the idea of dominant designs and technological trajectories. The classic pattern in which different designs compete in the early days of an innovation before a dominant version emerges which sets the path for further incremental development. Which is periodically interrupted by a radical shift enabled by technology or different market demand.

In the case of skateboards the simple plank of wood on wheels which dominated the early days 1930s was upended (pardon the pun) by Larry Stevenson’s rethinking of the deck to include a kicktail in 1969. This is the upturned rear end of a board which gives better control and crucially enables many of those fancy tricks. It wasn’t long before the double kicktail — a turn-up at each end — became the standard for modern boards.

And we’re not just talking about the boards themselves; there is matching innovation right across the ecosystem which has emerged. Take the case of footwear; the increasing profile of the sector attracted both specialist sports suppliers and also fashion brands and has led to another interactive set of pulls and pushes to create innovation. For example Vans, in the 1970s, introduced the waffle-cup, diamond shoe pattern, offering better grip and foot protection. Since then, skate shoe companies have continuously innovated, focusing on preventing bruises, increasing flexibility, and enhancing grip.

What about process innovation? Watching Lara on the wooden ramps and slopes showed how much this has changed since the early days of trying to travel down a road in a straight line. Now we’re in a world of complex spins and runs, jumps and curves. And supporting them are specialist architects and engineers designing ever more complex experiences across which boards can travel, swivel, twist, turn and jump in multiple ways. Not surprising that in 2016, the International Olympic Committee announced the inclusion of skateboarding in the 2020 Summer Olympics.

There’s also scope for what we’ call ‘position innovation’ — expanding the market to whom the innovation is targeted and changing story being told about it. Skateboarding is no longer the province of hardcore fans — it’s grown to be a mainstream sport, drawing in enthusiasts of an increasingly wide age range. According to a recent survey, skateboarding is marked at the third position in the most popular sports category after football and basketball in the USA. Europe has been catching on fast and Asia now has the highest growth rates — not least China.

It’s also another world, full of fans connected online and physically, creating a sub-culture around the sport. Since the first skateboarding magazine was published back in 1964 a whole media system has emerged spanning print, video, podcasting and films and populated by real life and fictional heroes. With my newly-acquired skateboarding vocabulary even I am able to make more sense of the arcane worlds of Mutant Turtles, Shredders and their like.

And it’s a powerful force in fashion now, and not just as a fan-based marketplace. In 2016, at Paris Fashion Week, Dior launched its winter collection on a neon-coloured skateboard catwalk ramp. The icons are everywhere — and so too are the sponsors, riding their own market waves with their brands plastered all over boards, apparel and other merchandise.

From time to time there is also an opportunity for what we call ‘paradigm innovation’ — changing the way we think about what it is we are doing and how it creates value. It can refer to the ‘business model’ being used or changed — but it can also get right to the heart of what we consider the boundaries and shape of our activity.

We’ve seen this before in then world of sport. Just as Dick Fosbury shifted the way high jump athletes think and move with his famous Fosbury Flop, so skateboarding has had its turning points. I’m reliably assured from my instant education via Wikipedia that Alan Gelfand invented a move in 1978 called the Ollie, which revolutionized the field. It’s the basic move in which the rider leaps in the air without using their hands — and it enabled all those amazing twirls, somersaults and assorted gravity-defying manoeuvres which make the sport so exciting. (You’ll be glad to learn that there are now at least 15 variations on the Ollie including the nollie (nose ollie), the switch ollie, the half-can, the pop-shuvit, and the fakie ollie).

Skateboard Business

So there’s plenty in the current innovation space around skateboarding. But where did it come from? Its origins lie in the 1930s, not surprisingly in the surf-rich worlds of Hawaii and California. The idea of attaching roller skate wheels to a wooden board gave us the ‘skate-scooter’ but it wasn’t until the 1950s that the crossover from the world of surfing really took hold. Standing on a board rather than scooting along with one foot on it led to the need to find ways to balance, turn and move in ways analogous to riding the ocean swell.

Going back through its history you quickly find yourself facing a classic example of user-led innovation. Thanks to the pioneering studies of Eric von Hippel and colleagues we know a lot about this type of innovation. It doesn’t begin with the design office in a company or in a marketing agency. Instead it starts with users who face a challenge, feel a frustration or generally seek something different, perhaps new thrills or experiences. They have a high incentive to innovate but this primarily comes from within — it’s not about growing a market or commercial expansion. They have a challenge and they want to deal with it.

In addition to this high incentive to innovate they are tolerant of failure and prepared to experiment and prototype. So many user innovations emerge from this type of experimenting — think of the first pickup trucks which were not designed in Detroit but were the result of farmers modifying the Model Ts and other cars they bought to make them more suitable for farm use.

Importantly because user innovators aren’t primarily motivated for commercial market expansion they are often happy to share and so communities form around promising new ideas. And these communities can significantly accelerate the rate of innovation by pooling both ideas and the results of their experiences.

Which is the classic pattern in many new sports — things like kitesurfing, windsurfing and mountain biking — and certainly characterises skateboarding. Originally developed as a street alternative to riding the waves early prototypes were shared, modified and developed in a co-laboratory on the streets and in communities prepared to share ideas (and how they got those bumps and bruises). Many of the early companies which emerged in this field were founded by users — and a good few failed to grow partly because their founders were more interested in riding their boards than in selling them!

The model persists; much of the move to tricks and through them to specialist materials, safety equipment and even the parks in which such tricks are enabled owe their genesis to user innovators. People like Rodney Mullen, who invented numerous foundational tricks used in modern street skating, and Tony Hawk, who not only pushed the boundaries of skateboarding tricks but also contributed to the design and material innovations through his company, Birdhouse Skateboards.

Skateboard Girl

Watching a seven year old try to master a complex physical skill requiring considerable co-ordination also provided me with another angle on innovation. There’s a strong vision of what she wants to achieve and periodically she’ll pause to watch one of the older kids running through their repertoire of tricks, culminating with jumps, back flips and other seriously cool manoeuvres. But there’s also a determination allied to acceptance of the multiple falls and collisions which go with the learning process. Plus, from time to time a sideways approach to the whole thing.

You can almost see her thinking that these wonderfully sculpted slopes and cliffs and jumps are OK for riding your board but they are also pretty interesting as a surface to be clambered over and played on in their own right. So why not combine the two? Within half an hour she was pretty adept at lying prone on her board and hurtling up and down in a new variant of the sport with more in common with bobsleigh riding. Perhaps I’ve just witnessed the birth ofyet another offshoot innovation?

At the end of the session one of the organizers came up and asked if I fancied having a go. My instincts were all around self-preservation reinforced by the important principle about the impossibility of teaching old dogs new tricks. But a voice was also whispering in my ear that innovation is, of course, all about learning new tricks. Dynamic capability and all that. Time to practice what I preach?

So maybe the next time I write this blog it will be from my hospital bed, having crocked myself up in spectacular fashion but with the satisfied smile of my face that comes to those who finally execute their first ollie….

You can find my podcast here and my videos here

And if you’d like to learn with me take a look at my online course here

Image credits: Dall-E via Microsoft CoPilot

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Innovation is Rubbish!

Why waste recycling and reuse may represent a valuable entrepreneurial opportunity…

Innovation is Rubbish!

GUEST POST from John Bessant

One of our family traditions at this time of year is the big clear-up. There’s a time limit on our tolerance for the accumulated junk, the temporary displacement of furniture to make space for Christmas trees, decorations, cards and mountains of discarded wrapping paper, piles of new toys and other festive fripperies. At a certain point (Twelfth Night, good of them to mark it on the calendar) some kind of alarm switch trips and it’s a case of loading up the car to transport the rubbish to the refuse tip. Where, we quickly discover, we are not alone — everyone else has had the same idea. Cue long wait in queue.

When I teach about searching for innovation opportunities one of the great tools to introduce is ‘find a queue’. It builds on a well-established principle of lean thinking — most times the presence of a queue means that value isn’t being added somewhere. Something or someone is being forced to wait for something to happen and that’s a waste of time, space, energy, etc. . So there’s an opportunity to think about how to change the process — to innovate to smooth out the bottleneck. Find a queue do a process map and begin the improvement journey.

So sitting in a queue for the refuse tip started me thinking on the innovation opportunities so much accumulated waste might have to offer. And whilst it might be possible to improve the ways and speed with which families can be separated from their rubbish the real benefits are buried a little deeper.

Queuing

In fact it’s worth referring back to a well-known piece of Yorkshire wisdom, ‘where there’s muck, there’s brass’. Waste needn’t be a problem to be hidden away — buried or burnt to get rid of it. Instead there are real opportunities in waste — as plenty of innovators have already found out. Think for example of Earl Tupper whose efforts to turn the black sludge emerging from 1940s oil refineries paid off when he created the bright shiny plastic kitchenware which bears his name.

Or Charles Goodyear who managed to improve the unpromising raw material of rubber with its tendency to become sticky and brittle into something elastic and flexible through the vulcanization process he literally cooked up in his kitchen sink.

Or Henry Ford who developed a plastic made from soybeans and used it to make car parts, demonstrating an early example of using agricultural waste to create valuable products.

It’s still happening — take the case of Terracycle, founded in 2001 by Tom Szaky as a business specialized in recycling and up-cycling various waste materials. Envar is a UK company which recycles coffee grounds into bio-fuel. An approach which has been deployed elsewhere; Virgin Atlantic picked up some helpful publicity and valuable learning when it flew an airliner from London to New York on November 28th last year on a diet of 100% bio-fuel, essentially derived from waste cooking oil.

In doing so they scored a notable PR bonus, being the first of many airlines seen to be doing something to help reduce their climate impact. Adidas has done something similar for the fashion industry; their partnership with Parley for the Oceans creates shoes and apparel from ocean plastic waste. And Nike, not to be left out, has been running its Grind program since the 1990s turning waste from shoe manufacturing into surfaces for sports facilities, turning manufacturing waste into valuable products.

In fact there’s growing interest in using waste as a feedstock for further use — through recycling or re-using in different forms. Waste tips are increasingly seen not as dumps but as mines, full of valuable resources which can be dug out. It’s a useful analogy.

Think of gold mining and the traditional picture is something like a hot and cramped shaft a mile below Johannesburg’s city streets. The results of long sweated hours are brought to the surface and end up mostly as huge piles of rock which are painstakingly separated to yield a few grams of gold. That’s not so far from what is now becoming commercially interesting — digging deep into waste heaps to extract and concentrate small flecks of gold (or many other valuable minerals) from the piles of discarded electrical goods.

When I took a tour of my local waste processing facility recently (I have so much fun in my holidays) I had a growing sense of déjà vu — where had I seen something like this before? Separating out an unpromising feedstock of unpleasant smelling raw material into different parts which could be further refined to produce something of value? Then it struck me — an oil refinery. The processes might be different — think physical separation instead of fractional distillation — but the underlying story is the same. Identify the value in different streams, find clients who will pay for it and manage the business accordingly.

It’s a profitable business — so much so that councils and local authorities are increasingly selling the licenses to process waste. Recent reports suggest profit margins at between 30 and 60% which suggest that it’s worth taking a close look. The global recycling industry is worth about $410 billion and is forecast to grow at over 5% per year, at least for the next 7–10 years. A 2023 McKinsey report offers an optimistic scenario for plastics recycling, for example, suggesting a future in which 50 percent of plastics worldwide could be reused or recycled by 2030. Following that path, plastics reuse and recycling could generate profit-pool growth of as much as $60 billion for the petrochemicals and plastics sector, representing nearly two-thirds of its possible profit-pool growth over the period.

It may not be so easy as waving a magic wand, though. There is widespread concern that plastics recycling is much more difficult to achieve because of the challenge of separation — most plastic waste is mixed and contaminated. But whilst manual separation may be cheap it is rapidly being supplanted by a new generation of smart sensors and actuators. CES 2024 might have some glamorous consumer products and plenty of AI on the front stage but behind the scenes there’s huge improvements in the sensor and actuator field which could drive the cost of separation down whilst improving its efficiency.

Robot Recycling

And it’s not just economic pressure in the marketplace. Increasingly regulation is pushing for higher rates of recycling and for manufacturers to take responsibility for their products over the whole life cycle. Which is promoting some ambitious innovation in recycling. Henry Ford’s ghost might enjoy a trip to the southwest of England where the Charles Trent scrapyard in the town of Poole has quietly reinvented itself as one of Europe’s most advanced ‘de-production’ facilities.

It has cost over £10m and looks at first sight like a car assembly plant — except that this one is focused on disassembly. Whole cars go in at one end and their skeletal remnants emerge at the other. Around 96.3% is reused or recycled by weight — above the 95% legal target and the UK average of 93% or less. Part of what makes the model work is the emphasis on separating out the valuable but harder to get at elements rather than simply recycling the steel for scrap.

On a typical day 120 cars arrive on trucks from all around the area and engineers crawl over them attaching bar codes which identify key valuable items. It’s a high-tech operation. Robot arms lift items clear so that humans can get in with cutting torches, bar codes label and track everything.The wheels, batteries and tyres are the first to be removed — many can be refurbished and resold, others can go to a specialist recycling facility. Fluids are drained off- fuel, oil even water — and are used in the company’s own vehicles. And then the carcass is hoisted on to a disassembly line where it visits four stations; at each one the bar codes are scanned to identify what has to be done and instructions for how to deal with different parts. It’s got a lot in common with Ford’s old lines — the same race to complete tasks against the clock, for example, 15 minutes being allocated for each set of instructions. The stations are specialized; number 1 deals with doors, panels and interiors, 2 handles lights and dashboards, 3 is moving parts like engines, gearboxes, axles and cat converters ad the last stage is electricals. Engine blocks are washed, labelled and assessed for re-usability — or stripped down for parts. What’s left after all this is to crush the rest into a metal bale and send to scrap recycler. The whole process takes about 60 minutes and handles 75 cars/day

A key element in the process is the downstream platform where parts can be sold online; eBay has become the UK’s largest retailer of car parts and preferred not least because it offers guarantees of provenance and quality. It has grown as a marketplace partly because since the Brexit split from the EU spare parts are scarce. Prices have risen and consumers and repairers are prepared to pay and use recycled ones, especially with a guarantee. The approach is not only greener but also up to 70% cheaper!

Innovation is continuing to help develop the process further; as the CEO comments ‘within the next couple of years our target will be to close that recycling loop to nearly 100%…this is the future of car recycling’.

So innovation in processes is a key — but so too is innovation in the underlying ways in which we frame business opportunity. Business model innovation. Current concerns around the availability and complex geopolitics of key raw materials is promoting a rethink and a re-evaluation of opportunities. Key minerals like lithium and cobalt are going to be critical and the search for alternative sources of supply comes into the equation. How about re-mining as one route forward?

In another recent article in New Scientist Graham Lawton reports on thinking — and the technology development behind it — around revisiting coal waste as a source of key valuable materials. A recent webinar hosted by the US National Academies of Sciences, Engineering and Medicine explored some fascinating options which revalue the thousands of sites of old coal mines which are littered with unsightly waste heaps. There’s a lot of collateral waste associated with coal mines — slag heaps, ash ponds and so on do not make for green and pleasant landscapes. These are mostly the consequence of burning coal — but they may represent a rich source of opportunity. Burning coal concentrates residual chemicals in the rock and those residuals include some of the most sought after minerals in today’s world. Lithium is close to the top of the list, essential for our current electromobility revolution and the batteries which will drive it. But there are other members of the so-called ‘dynamic dozen’ of key strategic materials present on slag heaps. Estimates suggest US coal waste alone contains around 288,000 tonnes of the stuff, enough to supply the US market for 130 years. Plus it also contains other high value minerals like cobalt (think mobile phones), platinum, iridium, gallium and germanium (semiconductors anyone?)

Rethinking waste in this way takes not only money but the classic entrepreneurial skill of reframing — of seeing what others don’t see. At its core, the Trash-to-Cash business model is all about re-imagining waste as a valuable resource. It requires an open mindset but also a long-term vision; the changes which might make such a business model viable may take time to materialize. But somewhere in that future of uncertainty about resource availability, concern for pollution and an increasingly strong regulatory framework lie the seeds of significant opportunity.

There’s also a need to think big and recognize that this kind of change may require a rethink at systems level. Much of the circular economy argument hinges around this theme of bringing together different players to create something viable which has emergent properties — the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

Sustainability led innovation is easy and obvious — up to a point. Only a very short-sighted organization would fail to try to do what it does better — saving energy, reducing carbon footprint, etc. — it’s a no brainer. And there’s scope for the visionaries who see that this might be a route to new products and services, a way of creating a company or of renewing and transforming an existing one. The role model of Ray Anderson who took Interface Flooring from a small carpets company to being a major player in the industry through committing wholeheartedly to the sustainability vision is a powerful one.

The big challenge in sustainability-led innovation is working at the system level, assembling and aligning multiple players into a coherent ecosystem. And that takes a lot of entrepreneurial vision, re-framing and dogged perseverance! But the prize may be worth it; in earlier centuries alchemists were seen as the somewhat lunatic fringe with their attempts to transmute base material into gold. With today’s technological, political and economic environment we may be closer to reaching that goal. To paraphrase a classic one-liner from the Hollywood depictions of the Gold Rush — ‘there’s gold in them thar hills….!’ could become ‘there’s gold in them thar landfills….!’

Golden Rubbish

You can find my podcast here and my videos here

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Image credits: Dall-E via Bing, John Bessant

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Pathways to Scale

Why planning your innovation expedition helps avoid a lot of trouble on the journey…

Image: Dall-E via Bing

GUEST POST from John Bessant

When I was a child a big feature of the social landscape was the annual visit to my uncle’s house on Christmas Eve. My dad came from a big family and they’d gather at his brother’s place to celebrate; my kid brother would already be asleep but I would sit in the small room next to the place they were all gathered, drinking, talking, occasionally singing. It was warm there; a small electric fire in the grate and a blanket to wrap myself in if I felt the cold.

Which was just as well since I invariably spent the evening with my nose in a book. Not just any book; as soon as we arrived I’d make a beeline for the bookshelf and haul out John Hunt’s account of the ascent of Everest. And I’d spend the evening while the ice crawled up the windows outside the room I’d imagine hearing the wind howling against the flimsy side of my tent as we shivered over a primus stove, trying to warm ourselves and get some rest before tomorrow’s big day. The last painful yards towards the summit…..

I was fascinated by the scale of the thing; a huge expedition, involving over 400 people (362 of them porters helping carry the 5000-plus kilograms of equipment) and relying on the intimate knowledge of the mother mountain held by the 20 Sherpas in the team. Those Nepalese guides had grown up in the shadow of the peak and knew to fear and respect it. The months of planning in smoky rooms in London clubs, the assembly and trek towards the base camp and the allocation of roles to help lay the foundations for what would certainly not be a simple walk in the park.

The extended discussions around which paths to take, the weighing up of different challenges along the prospective routes. Obstacles reckoned into the equation and balanced with the specialist skills and equipment needed to tackle them. A whole new language of cols and crevasses, of pitons and crampons to be learned, a crash-course in high altitude physiology and technology to be mastered.

And that was all before they even took their first tentative steps up the slopes.

It was engrossing, exciting and scary; for an 8-year-old kid whose experience of mountaineering extended to scrambling over the South Downs during our annual trip to see Grandma this was heady stuff. And as the evening wore on and we approached the summit, so it became a race against time. For the climbers, whittled down to Hilary and Tenzing, struggling up the last stage, their oxygen and energy running low and storms looming.

And for me hearing the chatter from next door rise to the climax which portended the taking of farewells, the wrapping of my kid brother in a blanket to continue his pre-Santa sleep in the car and me being bundled into a coat. Would I get to the summit in time — or have to wait until next year to continue the journey, abandoning mine at the eleventh hour?

I took a couple of lessons from that book, the first being that I’m not cut out for mountain climbing. There have to be easier and still thrilling ways to get your kicks and ‘because it is there’ isn’t a good enough reason for me to devote my energies to that particular kind of madness.

But the other is a healthy respect for people who scale mountains successfully. It takes a lot of planning, great team work and an approach to uncertainty which is all about agility and pivoting, adapting and improvising your way upwards.

Pretty much the key ingredients for successful innovation — and certainly relevant to another kind of scaling journey, enabling great innovations to have impact.

Because taking an innovation from a small-sized success story to something which delivers value at scale is not an easy one. The Holy Grail of impact has a lot in common with that elusive quest pursued by King Arthur’s knights, taking them along strange paths, meeting with dragons and disasters and lasting a long time. Similar odds of success too.

Having spent a long time focused on the challenges facing start-ups the innovation spotlight is now moving to the question of scaling — and there’s a helpfully growing body of knowledge and codified experience around this theme. Including the important decision about which route to take for the journey to scale.

One thing about mountain climbing which I remember thinking about when reading my Everest book was how they chose which route to take. Faced with 29,000 feet of sheer white walls with the occasional dangerous looking black rock poking its jagged edge through the snow like a knife through a curtain, how do you decide which path to take? It’s not as if there are well-worn tracks and clear signposts which you can follow — all you have is a lot of very unfriendly and treacherous ground on which to try to make your way.

It’s the same with scaling your innovation. Choosing your preferred pathway to scale is a key first stage on the journey; fortunately — like today’s Everest climbers — there’s a wealth of experience available from previous attempts and some important lessons on which we can build.

In particular we need to see the choices available as lying on a spectrum where we trade off additional external involvement with giving up a degree of control.

It’s a strategic decision, trying to balance the resource commitments you’ll need to make with the amount of control you want to retain. And with deciding what parts of your innovation knowledge are core, what parts are modular and can be adapted and customized with others in mind and what parts are you prepared to let others engage with, ‘hacking’ their own version of your ideas. Scale stories give us valuable clues about possible options, which include not doing it!

Some innovations aren’t really about a scaling journey. They work for a particular problem in a particular context; what’s needed for impact over the long-term is sustainability, being able to continue to deliver over an extended period of time and becoming something which is used and relied upon.

But if you are going to aim for scale then your choices include:

· Parachute — develop the venture, then try to get acquired, a classic start-up exit strategy. Let someone with the experience and the resources buy your solution, let it go. Easy on paper but you give up all your control and can only watch from the side-lines as your venture develops, and hope it’s in safe hands…

· Go it alone — keep on adding staff and spreading your solution across different geographies, gradually paint the world (or your chosen part of it) in your colors. There are plenty of advantages to doing this — mostly you keep control and you can directly manage quality, message, brand, etc. But the downside is you’ll need a lot of people and resources and you’ll pretty soon reach the point where you need to rethink your structure. The old tight-knit start-up team has to give way to a structured organization, complete with policies, procedures and a slowing down of the decision-making process. Plus you’ll need to adapt your solution to different local conditions — compatibility. And cost management will be important, finding ways to grow without bloating.

In reality this organic growth kind of approach can’t be a solo act — there will be things you need to outsource like legal services, manufacturing, distribution or maintenance. And it can also take time to build your own networks.

· Replicate — maybe your solution idea is one you think will work simply by replicating, placing the same offer in different geographies with only minor tweaks to help it fit. If your solution is something which can be ‘packaged’ and exported — a plug’n’play option — then this can work. It can either be a ‘grow your own’ approach, repeating the pattern by putting down your footprints on an increasingly broad geography. That’s the kind of route followed by IKEA and many other retailers, embodying their innovation solution in something which can be replicated.

Or you can franchise, allow others to take on the task and replicate on your behalf, sharing the revenues and building on your original innovative efforts. That’s the route which McDonalds has followed, exporting its original innovative fast-food format to over 39,000 locations around the world. But as Ray Croc, their scale architect realized, there’s a critical need to make sure the rules are clearly codified and then control via the franchise agreement so your proxies don’t damage the brand, compromise quality or change the core product. It’s a kind of remote control based on a clear constitution….

· ‘Relay replication’ — another version which involves another organization adopting and using your solution. Like franchising it requires protocols, training, standardization of core elements and processes but it also allows the adopting unit to continue to adapt and innovate within agreed parameters. A classic model here might be the diffusion of chemical plants like oil refineries; the core technology is transferred and the user learns to operate. It needs more than simple delivery, not plug n play — it involves a shared extended handover process until the user can make ‘product in a bottle’ with its own staff operating the equipment.

The advantages here are that you learn every time as you coach different organizations in the use of your innovation, plus there’s the chance that their downstream learning feeds back to you and allows you to improve your innovation. But it takes time and resources to ensure a successful handover, with key knowledge being shared through training, manuals and protocols and a long-term commitment to support.

· Licensing is another variation on the replication theme where other players can take on and (depending on the terms of the license) do things ranging from simply selling the core package through to adapting and extending it to suit local conditions. The big advantage is that other players are putting their shoulder to the wheel, helping spread the innovation, plus there’s a direct financial return to the original innovator. But once again it does involve letting go of control.

· Open source/open licensing — much commercial innovation is about finding ways to appropriate the benefits. So there’s pressure to keep a tight rein on what’s shared and how. But if you want to spread something, especially a novel approach, you might want to open up more to accelerate diffusion and seek your returns from being a first mover, growing with the market. There’s plenty of examples — Philips wanted to change the way we consumed recorded music in 1993 when they launched the Compact Cassette and so licensed it for free to others like Sony and Matsushita. It makes sense — if you are trying to establish a new ‘dominant design’ and move the world away from the current incumbent then recruiting others via open licensing is a good road to take.

And in the world of social innovation this has particular relevance; innovators who want to change the world for the better face the same challenge and recruiting others to the cause offers one way of doing so.

There are several advantages to such an open approach, not least it recruits many innovators who may help improve on your ideas. Communities of practice and using the crowd have become powerful innovation engines through this approach of free sharing; Linux is a good example.

Image: Dall-E via BIng

Lego’s approach to the hackers who started to modify the original ‘Mindstorms’ product is interesting here; they were presented with a different option to the traditional lawsuit which they might have been expecting. They were invited to Denmark to add their innovative ideas to those of the core design team!

But the downside, of course, in such open approaches is the loss of control and the risk that the innovation may be hijacked or developed in directions which do not match those of the original authors or reflect their social values.

· Strategic partnerships make sense where there is a clear need for ‘complementary assets’ of knowledge or other key resources and where win-win arrangements and contracts can be put in place. Christopher Sholes and colleagues had developed a great solution to the typewriter opportunity back in the 1850s but it took their strategic partnership with Remington and their accompanying mass-manufacturing and marketing to scale their innovation.

· Multi-player consortia may be needed when the range of complementary assets needed goes beyond a single partner. Sears and Roebuck pioneered the remote retailing model with their mail order catalogue approach but they needed to bring together many other players into the model to make it work — finance houses, logistics and distribution and a wide range of different suppliers. Boeing and Airbus do the same today, orchestrating extensive networks of players and partners to deliver their aerospace solutions at scale.

Such consortia bring real power to the scaling challenge but also require careful integration around a core mission. Managing such ‘strategic networks’ is well-known for its high transaction costs and co-ordination challenges.

· Value network and ecosystems — today’s innovation language extends this multi-player game, recognizing that there is a need for multiple players to work together to create value at scale. The challenge is that not all of these players have the same goals or aspirations so balancing their needs with the overall ‘mission’ becomes a tricky balancing act. It’s also important to recognize that such ecosystems don’t just have shared value creators in the mix like our strategic partnerships; they may also involve other players who affect the journey to scale by shaping the ways in which the value creation game is played. Examples of such shapers include government regulators, trade unions and standards organizations.

Once again this has particular relevance for scaling social innovation where system change which delivers real impact may depend on finding ways to bring many diverse players, like government agencies or regional authorities onside. As an influential IDB report puts it, such collaborations require ‘…different actors to coalesce around a shared set of priorities and best practices’.

· Platforms — we’re also now seeing the rise of platform businesses which enable scaling through linking innovators and markets more effectively. The Taobao market approach pioneered in China mimics in many ways the ecosystems around Apple’s developer platform or much of the Amazon operation. For small start-up innovators such platforms become a powerful alternative route to scale, but at the cost not only of accessing the platform but also in letting go some degree of control.

For any innovator climbing Mount Scale remains a key challenge. Meandering around the foothills may be a pleasant way to pass the time but if you want your innovation to have real impact then that peak has got to be climbed. Which means putting together and planning your expedition with the kind of care and attention John Hunt brought to his Everest team. And my guess is that his reflections probably have relevance in the world of innovation. Working out the most appropriate route up those slopes is something best done in the comfort of base camp rather than halfway up the mountain with the wind howling and the snow lashing at your face as you realise that the other path might have been a better one to take….

Image: Dall-E via Bing

This blog is based on our forthcoming book ‘The Scaling Value Playbook’ — click here for more details and to pre-order

You can find my podcast here and my videos here

And if you’d like to learn with me take a look at my online course here

Image credits: Dall-E via Bing, John Bessant

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Why Evidence Plays a Key Role in Scaling Innovation

Prove it to me!

Why Evidence Plays a Key Role in Scaling Innovation

GUEST POST from John Bessant

A good idea will sell itself, right? Unfortunately not — Emerson was spectacularly wrong when he suggested that all you needed to do was build that better mousetrap to have the world beating a path to your door.

History is full of examples of innovations that, whilst being good and proven solutions, more than just a gleam in their inventor’s eye, stubbornly refused to scale. They failed to have impact on a widespread basis.

Think about Earl Tupper and his alchemical miracle, creating an award-winning product out of the unpromising raw material of black sludge waste from oil refining. Tupperware eventually made it as an innovation which scaled but it was only after Brownie Wise teamed up with him and pioneered the social marketing which brought the product into the homes of key influencers.

Or Toshiba, investing close to a billion dollars in the technology underpinning what they saw as the next generation of high quality DVD recording, only to fall in the final straight as the market opted instead for Sony’s Blu Ray system. This was a fascinating echo of the story which Sony had encountered decades earlier when its Betamax video tape format lost the battle to the VHS standard, despite having many technical advantages over its rival.

Or Better Place, an ambitious green start-up that offered to make the world more sustainable by introducing battery swap technology for electromobility. Despite raising a huge amount of venture finance and gaining the backing of world leaders and CEOs prepared to set up factories the vision fell apart after three years.

These are not the failures of foolish and unprepared entrepreneurs; they all had much to offer and had proven their technologies worked. But they each stumbled over one or other of the many rocks strewn in the way of those trying to make the journey to scale. There are plenty of them in the world of commercial innovation — and in the field of social change, innovations designed to have an impact and change the world, it’s even more difficult.

Evidence and scale

One of the challenges is around the role of evidence. At its simplest we adopt new things because we see some benefit in them, they make our lives easier, more comfortable or better in some way. That’s what gives rise to the S-curve shape which you can find associated with any innovation — it isn’t a case of all or nothing, adoption takes time. And one of the key influences on that is the role of evidence.

For early adopters it’s a matter of being convinced enough by data or demonstrations that the innovation has real advantages to offer — they’re looking for hard and measurable facts to underpin their decision. But as we move along the road diffusion becomes more of a social process as well.

The more we see others getting benefit, the more we’re prepared to take the risk. Shaping our perceptions of new things so that we adopt them sooner is a huge part of what advertising does and it plays on our desire for evidence. Being persuaded — by facts, figures, demonstrations or simple observation accelerates the process.

Think of Washington Carver’s famous attempts to get rural farmers in the southern USA (a sceptical breed) to adopt new strains and methods. Simply giving them the hard facts wasn’t enough — his success came when he could show that the crops in his demonstration fields grew higher or thicker than those around. Seeing is believing — and it reminds us that evidence comes in many forms and can be communicated in different ways.

It’s also a matter of who is offering us the evidence — can we trust it, can we believe it? The advertising industry has played this tune for a long time, persuading us about the virtues of better toothpaste or headache pills by invoking the (eminently trustworthy) authority of medical practitioners. We also listen to key influencers, opinion leaders whose perceptions we trust — and we’re much more likely to adopt something if it is recommended by ‘people like us’.

All of these factors help shape the familiar S-curve pattern which we see over the life of innovations whereby adoption accelerates after the initial first wave. There’s a kind of snowball effect with the accumulation of evidence (especially the experience of satisfied adopters) driving up the pace of adoption. (Or not — negative evidence or word of it can quickly stop adoption in its tracks).

So if we are concerned with trying to scale our innovation it’s worth looking a little more closely at the role evidence plays, at the monitoring and evaluation processes which build that evidence base, and at how evidence is communicated. We could do a lot worse than break our review down into some key question areas — the who, what, when and how of scaling evidence.

Who?

Who needs evidence? Well, self-evidently (!) adopters, as we’ve seen, it’s a key part of the innovation decision process. But we often use proxies — opinion leaders — to influence our decisions — whether it’s the Jones’s we try to keep up with or our favourite social media influencer. Adoption is based on trusting others judgment and we assume they have reviewed the ‘evidence’ in coming to their decision.

Beyond that there’s another group — investors. Whether it is donors funding social innovation or government promoting a new technology or individual investors in a crowdfunding campaign those investors are looking for evidence to shape their behaviour. Is the innovation worth doing — is there evidence of demand and potential impact? Is there evidence downstream of actual impact, and along the way are the trends in the right direction? And afterwards, was the investment worthwhile, was it done well, could it have been done better, what have we learned? All questions which require evidence.

And then there’s the innovators themselves, the teams growing and scaling their innovation. Their core approach in coming up with their original solution will have been based on prototyping and experimenting, pivoting as they learn from the market what works and what doesn’t. And that experimental learning cycle doesn’t stop once the solution is established. If anything the journey to scale requires even more of this pivoting and adaptation to suit different contexts and situations on the scaling journey. Once again what the team needs is evidence.

In the field of social innovation there are other stakeholders to consider, all of whom have influence on whether or not an innovation can scale. Research on innovation scaling in the humanitarian sector suggests that there are many different players involved, each of whom have different evidence needs, as shown here.

(Source: ‘Building evidence for scaling’, ALNAP Response Innovation Lab, 2020)

What?

So what kind of evidence do we need? And, in a world increasingly plagued by fake news and unreliable facts ,what constitutes ‘good’ evidence? There isn’t one size fits all, different players (as we’ve just seen) look for different kinds of evidence.

During a recent webinar Lydia Tanner of The Research People showed a helpful graphic which underlines this point; evidence is very much a matter of horses for courses.

(Source: ‘Building evidence for scaling’, ALNAP Response Innovation Lab, 2020)

Of course we’re looking for evidence of impact, of relative advantage. But in the field of social innovation where donors and funders may be asking the question there’s also a need to provide evidence that the problem is important and the ‘right’ one to address, and that the solution has real value to end-users. Is there real advantage to the solution, is it compatible with the context into which it will operate?

And on the left had side of the diagram there are considerations of how well the solution is delivered. This involves reflecting and collecting data on the innovation process itself and how well it is working , alongside the nature and experience of the solutions being offered.

There’s also something important about the quality and reliability of the evidence we assemble. Clearly our aim should be to provide proof, facts which can be verified — not for nothing does the healthcare sector place so much weight on randomised control trials as a gold standard to help determine whether a new medicine is effective or not. RCTs are all about assembling an evidence base of reliable and robust data. The trouble is that getting at good evidence is difficult, not least because there are so many kinds of information we can assemble as ‘evidence’ — not least those vanity metrics which tell us that ‘20,000 people can’t be wrong…..’!

When?

And then there’s the when question. When should we start to assemble our evidence base and when does it have most impact? The simple answer is ‘always’ — throughout the innovation and scaling process.

At the start of the scaling journey we want evidence to reassure us that there is potential demand, that our innovation will be solving a big enough and important enough problem and that what we have developed represents a robust solution which is capable of being scaled. Without this to back up our claims we’re unlikely to get very far in trying to convince others to buy into or support our solutions.

During the process it’s all about pivoting, using evidence of success and failure to help shape and adapt our innovation to suit different contexts. In the social innovation field the ‘market’ may involve a number of different players but the principle is the same. We can use the different kinds of evidence outlined above to help us get a better fit between innovation and context. Which will increase our chances of successfully scaling it.

A simple example might be the case of Netflix. Early on in their innovation journey Netflix realised that their entertainment supply model based on shipping DVDs by post was not the way to go; whilst their model worked there was increasing evidence that people were turning to online streaming of music and the same was likely to happen to video as high speed internet bandwidth became available. So they pivoted to a streaming approach, learning with the newly-emerging market while at the same time maintaining their video-by-post approach.

(And contrary to popular myth Blockbuster didn’t simply plough on with its old bricks and mortar solution using shops as rental hubs. They saw the evidence of Netflix ‘s successful new online model and developed their own solutions to emulate it. But their wider value network had too much invested in the original model and was reluctant to let go. So in spite of the evidence they couldn’t change their business model with the resulting collapse of their operations).

And at the end of the process there’s an opportunity for collecting a different kind of evidence, around learning. If we succeeded, why and what can we do more of next time? And if we failed, what can we change? Smart organizations concerned with learning to repeat the innovation trick develop ‘routines’ — embedded patterns of behaviour which become ‘the way we do things’ around innovation. These routines find their way into polices , procedures and processes — but not by accident. There’s a need for post-project reviews, set down meetings and other devices to capture learning. The trouble is , particularly with projects which have not gone so well, that there’s a tendency to cover up and disguise things — obscuring the evidence we need so badly to help us improve things next time.

How?

Which brings us to the how? How do we set up robust and flexible monitoring and evaluation so we can collect the different kinds of evidence needed to by different stakeholders? What frameworks and tools are available? What different approaches might be needed under different circumstances? Not surprisingly there is no simple answer to this but a clear need to put an evidence strategy in place at the outset of the innovation scaling journey. Since evidence will play such a key role we need to allow time and resources and develop or bring in expertise to work on this aspect of our project in parallel with rolling out our solution.

And we need to think hard about how we communicate the evidence we acquire to a variety of different audiences. How do we build on good evidence to tell the innovation story? Adoption of innovation is a social process which is accelerated or retarded by more than facts; it depends on perceptions and on social influence. That’s a lesson which comes through repeatedly in the work of Everett Rogers, the ‘godfather’ of innovation diffusion research and it continues to play a key role according to current research findings. It’s also clear from the experience of would-be innovators trying to scale their solutions

There was nothing wrong with Earl Tupper’s product innovation except that no-one was particularly interested in buying it. That all changed when he switched his marketing from in store sales to doorstep selling and through that to the in-home party. Brownie Wise was one of the early demonstrators and quickly proved her facility at persuading home-makers to adopt the product. Her sales pitch was essentially around changing the way in which the core evidence — that the product worked and was a viable better food storage solution than traditional glass jars — was communicated and perceived.

She had great attention-grabbing skills — for example one of her ‘party tricks’ involved filling a Tupperware bowl with tomato soup and throwing it across the room where it landed, seal still intact and without spilling and staining the carpet. But she accompanied these tricks with a much more powerful approach which was to engage the party hostesses as sales agents. Their ‘source credibility’ — the degree of trust and respect in which they were held by their peers — meant that they were powerful opinion leaders, able to accelerate adoption across social networks. These days we’d call them ‘influencers’ but whatever the label the way in which they could amplify the positive perception of evidence played a key role on the successful scaling.

So what lessons can we take from this? First we should remind ourselves that scaling innovation is not automatic it’s a long and difficult Journey — and one in which evidence makes a difference. Evidence is what drives and accelerates (or retards) that S-curve around adoption.

But we need to consider an evidence strategy — it’s not just that we need evidence but we need to think about who’s it for and their different needs, what form it can take that will be convincing, how are we going to communicate the story, etc.?

Innovation is what what’s helped us as a species to survive and grow in what is still a very hostile, turbulent and uncertain world. But that innovation process hasn’t been a matter of simply adopting every new idea because it’s new. That’s a very dangerous approach, not least because many innovations may take us in the wrong direction. We’re actually quite cautious about adoption; we’re not risk averse but we’ve evolved to be careful about the risks we take. Having credible evidence occupies a place centre stage in that adoption decision. Which means that if we’re serious about scaling our innovation then we need to take the evidence question seriously.

You can find my podcast here and my videos here

And if you’d like to learn with me take a look at my online course here

Image credit: Dall-E via Bing

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Stringing Together an Innovation Story

How convergence and creative collisions fuel invention

Stringing Together an Innovation Story

GUEST POST from John Bessant

It was the Covid lockdown that did it. Got me into compulsive listening. As my physical world contracted so I spent more and more time taking voyages inside my head, carried along by music. These days the choice of vessels in my harbor is impressive; I can embark on a whole series of different journeys depending on my mood — jazz, classical, soft folky reminiscence or driving angry rock. But whatever the journey there’s a pretty good chance a guitar will feature somewhere in the mix.

(Confession; I’m a guitar player, have been since I was twelve years old and managed to persuade my parents to let me trade the trumpet I was learning as part of the school orchestra for a six string I’d seen in a shop window).

Even allowing for my bias and your many different musical tastes, you’d probably agree that taking the guitar out of our aural landscape would leave it a poorer place

And it would certainly be a commercially poorer one as well — the market for guitars is booming. It’s currently worth around half a billion dollars and is estimated to grow steadily. Covid-19 was an important sales agent, nudging millions of people to try and fulfill their dreams of converting air guitar playing to the real thing. Fender, one of the biggest names in the industry, had the best sales of its 80 year history during 2020 while James Curleigh, CEO of market leader Gibson, commented that during that year “we literally couldn’t deliver enough. Everything we were making, we could sell!”

But how did the guitar get here? And what role did innovation play in the process?

It’s an instrument with a long history — in fact if you take the idea of stretching strings across some kind of frame and letting the vibrations conjure sounds then we’re back at least three thousand years. There’s a stone carving of a Hittite musician entertaining at a Babylonian party in the Ancient Orient Museum in Istanbul and what he’s playing looks suspiciously close to being a guitar. It clearly didn’t take long for others to catch on the concept of the ‘chordophone’ (to give the technical term for a device which generates sound in this fashion). The Greeks and Romans had their harps and lyres, the Egyptians adding the lute, originally developed in Mesopotamia. And the Moors of north Africa have the oudh, an instrument with a lute-like body and a long neck, probably based on a dried gourd and later fashioned of wood. As it journeyed across to Spain it morphed into what we’d recognize today, a multi-stringed wooden necked device. Encyclopaedia Britannica has the origins of the Spanish guitar as something emerging in the 16th century, deriving from the guitarra latina, a late-medieval instrument with a waisted body and four strings.

Along with the lute, mandolin and other derivatives of the plucked instrument variety it became a widely-played instrument over the next four hundred years. Its popularity came partly from its versatility — it could sit center stage in an orchestral concerto but it could also accompany a lone balladeer or form the centerpiece of a fiery flamenco stomp. And partly from its portability — it was the ideal traveling instrument for the itinerant musician. You could find it in taverns and town squares, concert halls and at court and it spread far and wide, migrating from Europe with the early settlers to the emerging New World.


From the innovation point of view the guitar followed a classic pattern — plenty of experimentation with materials, number of strings, neck length and a host of other parameters in search of the right balance of sound and functionality. And then the emergence of a ‘dominant design’, the configuration which set the pattern, laid down the roadway along which the development of the instrument would travel in an extended period of continuous improvement. Most sources agree it was the Spanish guitar builder Antonio Torres Jurado who did this in 1850 with his invention of the fan-braced design. Bracing the hollow body with struts of wood meant it didn’t keep collapsing in on itself because of the tension in the strings and you could build a big enough body to give you the balance of tone, projection and volume which players required.

But by the end of the 19th century the guitar had come up against an increasingly frustrating limit. It wasn’t loud enough. You could have the sweetest, most lyrical tone but if you were trying to make yourself heard amongst the dance bands which emerged as the twentieth century dawned you had a problem. Innovation, of course, thrives on these conditions and a whole new breed of entrepreneurs began experimenting to try to make louder guitar. They explored many routes — making the whole instrument bigger (but more cumbersome), changing materials (like the steel guitars pioneered by the National company), and playing around with alternative sound amplification principles (like the resonator cone, a kind of dustbin-lid built into the guitar top which vibrates like a speaker and replaces the simple sound hole of the guitar).

This last was particularly embraced by the Dopraya Brothers, Slovakian immigrants to the USA who set up the Dobro company and gave their name to the guitar variant whose haunting sound instantly conjures the wide prairie landscape with its rolling tumbleweed in a thousand films.

Plenty of innovation — but no real breakthrough, nothing radical enough to bring a step change in performance. Until entrepreneurs began to borrow ideas from different industries and to import alternative technologies. As Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones expertly explained in a BBC interview looking at the history of the electric guitar, ‘all they did was put a phone in it….’ Then, after a trademark raspy guffaw, he added “But it was the right phone at the right time!


Electronics in the early twentieth century had already given us the telephone, the radio and the gramophone and it had become clear that converting sound waves into electrical impulses and then reversing the process offered opportunities for amplifying instruments like the guitar. Patents from around 1910 reinforce Richards’ analysis; people were putting telephone transmitters inside violins and banjos. By the 1920s hobbyists used the (by then widely available) carbon button microphones from telephones, attaching them to the bridge of their instruments. Unfortunately these had a weak signal and as you increased the sensitivity to try to make it louder the microphone picked up other sounds and generated the unpleasant squeal of feedback.

The breakthrough came in 1931 when George Beauchamp designed a one piece instrument, cast in metal and resembling more a frying pan rather than a guitar. Harry Watson of the National Company takes the credit for having built the design which qualifies as the world’s first electric guitar. The key innovation was the use of a device to convert the instrument’s vibrations into electrical signals which could then be amplified — an arrangement of coils of wire wrapped around a metal core and designed to ‘pick up’ the signal. The concept of the pickup belongs to Watson’s friend Arnold Rickenbacker; the idea worked and in 1932 the two of them formed the Rickenbacker company and in 1937 they were awarded a patent.

That breakthrough fired the starting pistol for another innovation race with established manufacturers rushing to bring imitations to market and entrepreneurs looking to exploit the new possibilities in new (and hopefully better) designs. There was plenty of innovation space to play in. Not least dealing with the main limitation of the frying pan idea which was that it was a lap steel guitar, designed to be played horizontally with the instrument resting on the knees. Whilst the ‘Hawaiian sound’ associated with such an instrument was popular it had its limits; Rickenbacker quickly came up with their ‘electro-Spanish model B’ which was designed to be played upright with a strap — the instrument we know and love today.

Some sought to move the new idea to scale through celebrity endorsement. The Gibson company was one of the biggest players in the rapidly-growing musical instrument industry; they launched their Electro-Spanish 150 with the backing of the celebrated jazz guitarist Charlie Christian and a price tag of $150 trying to create a Model T Ford machine.

There was plenty of pent-up demand in the market; with the expansion of the dance band era musicians needed to play louder. But the limits of the design were still there — even if you replaced the sound hole with f-holes or did away with it altogether you still had the problem of sound waves bouncing around inside a hollow-bodied instrument and generating unwanted feedback.

Enter a user innovator, one Les Paul. Already a guitar player with a big following on the country and western circuit he was also a tinkerer. And in 1940 he came up with a solution to the feedback problem — why not dispense with the hollow body altogether and make the guitar solid? He built the Log — a wooden post with a pickup attached along which he stretched the strings. Recognising that he might have trouble pitching his new design he disguised it by gluing two halves of an old Epiphone guitar to the wooden post to give it the familiar guitar shape. This was simply a cosmetic addition to reduce the shock factor; in terms of the sound it made no contribution whatever.

In classic user innovator style he wasn’t particularly interested in producing and marketing the device himself — he had plenty to do as a performer. So he took it to the Gibson company, reasoning that with their history they might be interested in a radical innovation like this. Gibson had built their success on (and took their name from) the ideas of an eccentric mandolin maker who revolutionised the design of that instrument in 1910, doing away with the round bellied Neapolitan model and replacing it with the flat-backed variety. Unfortunately (for them as it later turned out) their response was decidedly lukewarm and so Les shelved his project.


Innovation is often like a soup; market needs and enabling technologies being stirred together by various entrepreneurs and coming slowly to the boil. As it reaches the right temperature so a breakthrough idea bubbles to the surface in two or three places simultaneously. So it wasn’t entirely surprising that in another part of the country someone else was playing with a similar idea to Les Paul.

This one was taking shape in the workshop of Paul Bigsby, an engineer with a passion for two things, country music and motorcycles. He shared this with a friend, Merle Travis, another successful country singer who talked about his ideas for improving the guitar he played — making it easier to tune, capturing the sustain which he could get from a steel-bodied guitar but without the feedback. Bigsby built guitars as a sideline to his motorcycle business and was able to bring Travis’s ideas to life; together they developed their own version of a solid bodied electric guitar.

And meanwhile in another part of the galaxy, or at least further up the road in California another player was about to join the game. Leo Fender wasn’t a guitar player — his instrument was the saxophone. He was an accountant by training though his passion was electronics — he’d spent his childhood disassembling and rebuilding radios and enjoyed exploring the growing potential of the new technology. While working as a book-keeper in Anaheim he was contracted by a local band leader to build a public address (PA) system; it was a success and he was asked to build six more.

That nudged the entrepreneur in him; in 1938 along with his wife he opened a radio repair shop with a borrowed $600 — “Fender Radio Service”. He quickly built up a business repairing and servicing the amplifiers and occasionally guitars for the many roadhouse bands coming through. This was a valuable apprenticeship; through the many projects he worked on he developed a deep understanding of the typical problems and how to improvise solutions to fix them quickly. He was continuously prototyping and experimenting with new ideas and implementing those ideas in the next project which came through his door.

He wasn’t alone; in particular he shared ideas with another enthusiast — Doc Kaufman — who was a lap steel guitar player, with a day job working for the Rickenbacker company. The two of them played around with ideas and eventually launched their company, K&F, to build lap steel guitars; in 1944 they patented their version incorporating Fender’s own design for a pickup; Kaufman left in 1946 and Leo renamed the company Fender Manufacturing. He worked on their ideas further, coming up with a thin solid body electric guitar which would be easy to tune, wasn’t too heavy and crucially didn’t feedback in the way the hollow bodied machines did. Pretty much the specification which Merle Travis had brought to Paul Bigsby.

In 1950 he launched it as the Fender Esquire and then, having added a second pickup, renamed it the Broadcaster in 1951. The threat of a lawsuit from the rival Gretsch company forced him to change the name and so the guitar became known as the Telecaster. The new wave was about to break.

Fender’s skills weren’t just in electronics; he was a pretty good listener too. He picked up on plenty of feedback from customers in his service business and so instead of improving on the Telecaster for his next product he set about designing a new machine incorporating many of their ideas. This led to a guitar which built of the strengths of the Telecaster but which added innovations in pickups — 3 instead of 2, giving the player plenty of control via a 5-way switch. The result was the Stratocaster, launched in 1954 and about to change the world of music.

Its success owed a lot to timing; the growth of Rock ’n’ Roll changed the format of dance bands towards the smaller trios and quartets and the sound and capability of the machine lent itself perfectly to the loud driving style. (Fender also had a hand in changing the shape of the ‘back line’ of the band, displacing the double bass with his solid-bodied Precision bass, introduced quietly alongside the Telecaster in 1951).

The Stratocaster appeared in Buddy Holly’s hands on the cover of his 1957 album and around the world musicians began taking notice. In the UK Hank Marvin, lead guitarist in Cliff Richard’s backing band The Shadows, was one of the first to own one and their success with a strong of instrumental hits firmly established the new sound. Not least in the ears of a generation of youngsters who aspired to own one and make their own music; as one of them, Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour said, ‘(the Stratocaster) is about as perfect as a guitar gets’. In the hands of another, one James Marshall Hendrix, the machine was pushed to its limits — not least through exploiting the very feedback which Leo Fender, Paul Bigsby and Arnold Rickenbacker had worked so hard to try and reduce!


The response from the other guitar manufacturers was once again one of copy and develop, rapid imitation and improvement. Gibson were quick to pick up on the new trend but had a long hard slog up the learning curve to reach the point where they could master the new tricks of building solid bodied guitars with complex pickups. In 1955 they launched their new guitar and went looking for another celebrity to help them promote their new product. They recruited one of the top performing acts of the time, Mary Ford and her partner — Les Paul. The man who they remembered as ‘the guy with the broomstick with the pickups on it’, and whose ideas they had turned down a decade earlier. They made slight amends by naming the guitar after him — and alongside the Stratocaster it is still one the most sought after models and has been widely imitated around the world — not least because of the exposure given it by a rising blues guitarist, Eric Clapton.


The rest is (recent) history. The market for both professionals and increasingly amateur musicians grew and with it a rising tide of innovation. Variations on the basic dominant design established by Leo Fender, Les Paul, Merle Travis and others proliferated with different shapes, different materials, extensive improvements around the electrics and so on. Bringing us to today’s world where — unless the person in the next apartment is at the early stages of trying to master thrash metal riffs — those innovations have helped create the soundscape into which we can escape, whether as players or listeners.


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