The art of ‘judo strategy’

The sport of judo has always fascinated me.

In most martial arts (indeed, in most sports), 99 times out of 100, the bigger, stronger, more athletically talented person or team wins.

In judo though, that’s not the case. It’s an abnormal, parallell universe where the small and mediocre are rendered mighty because they’ve found a way to flip the odds.

Judo principles do not advocate the use of strength to fight against strength. Instead, it’s about flexibility, leverage and trying to stay one step ahead.

As someone who grew up being pretty mediocre at most things, and certainly not excellent at anything, I learned quite quickly that in order to succeed, I’d have to figure out a way to rig the odds in my favour. On a sports field, that often came either by cheating (a ‘mistimed’ tread on my marker’s toe while the ball was down the other end of the pitch!) or trying to read the game better than anyone else to make up for my lack speed (and skill!).

In school, that came from taking calculated chances, prioritising certain topics that might come up in an exam, working hard on subjects that I knew I would need for points, and therefore optimising my chances of success.

It’s a strategy that has always served me well up until now – working my advantages to the maximum, ducking and weaving and using manoeuvres to out fox others.

It’s a strategy that, if I had’ve thought about it, actually takes a lot from the theories of judo.

And it’s a strategy that, across the spectrum of business, sport and war, smart leaders have been silently employing through the ages to gain advantage.

Banana Man

In his book ‘The Fish That Ate The Whale‘, Rich Cohen tells the vivid story of Samuel Zenmurray, a Jewish immigrant who built his fortune in the banana industry. In 1915, locked in a bitter struggle with a giant fruit company to claim hundreds of acres of valuable land in the Amazon, our hero Sam was facing ruin.

The issue – two local tribes claimed ownership of the land, so neither company could even attempt to purchase it.

United Fruit, his rival, sent team after team of high powered lawyers to solve the issue, spending hundreds of man hours negotiating with local government, keeping Zenmurray at arms length with the threat to sue if he became involved.

Outmuscled, little old Sam, a poor negotiator but an excellent relationship builder, decided to take a trip down himself. Flexible, fluid and defiant, he simply met separately with both owners, bought the land from each of them and built his plantation.

Case closed.

He couldn’t play United Fruit’s game.

So he didn’t.

That’s ‘judo strategy’ in the realm of business.

The Flank Attack

The great myth of history is that wars are an arm wrestle, head to head combat won by the most powerful, skilled and well supported army. It’s a dramatic, courageous and also plain wrong notion. In his book ‘The Obstacle is The Way’, Ryan Holiday tells of how, in a study of 280 major conflicts from ancient to modern history, a startling discovery was made.

Across all the campaigns, in only 6, or 2% did the decisive blow come as a result of a direct attack on an enemy’s main army. 

Most victories don’t come from long, drawn out, pitched battles, but from outflanking or outfoxing your opponents.

George Washington was a master of this tactic, deliberately avoiding masses of British troops, waging a war of defensive movement and guerilla attacks. He chose to exert force only at the point of greatest weakness, only when it would case maximum damage. Though the odds were often still against him, at least they were evened up somewhat.

Like in judo, he didn’t push or go head to head like a rutting stag. He waited for opponents to make their move, and then pulled until opponents lost their balance. Just like the British at Dunkirk. Or the Viet Cong.

That’s judo strategy, and it’s easy to see how smaller, nimble companies can learn from it.

Sticking to your strengths

When Pat Lam took over Connacht, they were the poor relation of Irish rugby. Underfunded, unloved by many and set out on the Western seaboard. Whatever strengths the side had needed to be maximised.

So Lam decided to change things by altering Connacht’s style drastically. Traditionally, the province played a kick and run game, designed to pressurise the opposition in the harsh winter climate of Galway. Their major successes have come from grinding opponents down, making them make mistakes rather than attacking them.

But Lam saw something different. He implored his squad, who were much smaller in both size and depth, to play a different game to the others. Connacht kicked the ball less than any other team. Even in danger in their own half, they backed their skills and surprised teams by not playing to the normal rules. They threw offloads that no other side would dream of.

To commentators, this seemed risky.

To Connacht, it was the only way they could win.

By avoiding contact as much as possible, Lam flipped the script. He kept players injury free, used speedy backs and brought in former basketball players as forwards. Every man knew their role, and every man knew that the guy beside them was programmed the same way.

Last year, Connacht won the league for the first time with consistently brilliantly rugby. Nobody could match them.

This decision to play by their own rules?

That’s judo strategy applied to sport.

Subvert

What judo strategists try to avoid are sumo matches, in which combatants go head-to-head. In a world where the cost of competition keeps coming down, but the biggest barrier to competition remains the sheer size of the market leaders, it makes sense to change the rules. If you don’t like what’s going down, change something around. Be pragmatic, nimble and willing to subvert what others see as due process if necessary.

You don’t need to play by their rules.

Don’t believe me?

Ask AirBnB, Dollar Shave Club, Amazon or Uber.

Shane O'Leary

@shaneoleary1

www.shaneoleary.me/blog