Hacking Innovation. Josh Linkner
decided to make it his life’s work to put at least a small dent in this giant problem. He had no money, specialized training, or fancy credentials. So he had to hack the problem.
First, he was convinced that Every Barrier Can Be Penetrated. He knew there had to be a better way, and refused to accept the notion that fatalities were just to be expected. Next, he entertained a deep sense of curiosity and exploration, a willingness to choose Compasses Over Maps. He asked countless questions about conventional mine-clearing methods, challenged prevailing wisdom, and pursued the problem over a given solution.
As Massoud immersed himself in the world of landmine safety, he was struck by how little progress had been made. The traditional approach – more or less the same since the 1960s – is expensive, dangerous, and not all that effective. Yet major defense contractors, nation-states, and academic researchers remained entrenched in the old, static approach.
Hassani’s breakthrough innovation came from borrowing, a hacking tactic we’ll cover later in the book. As a young boy, he would frequently look into the distance and watch tumbleweed blowing gently across the desert sand. This inspiration led him to create the Mine Kafon, “mine exploder” in his native language of Dari. The Kafon looks like a giant ripened dandelion waiting to blow into the wind from its stem. The device is approximately six feet in diameter and contains a central core, approximately 50 bamboo rods emanating from the center, and clay disks affixed to the end of each rod. The invention is light enough to be wind-propelled, like the tumbleweeds Hassani watched blowing across the desert in his youth. But the Kafon is also heavy enough to detonate the land mines planted beneath the earth’s surface. Boom.
The UN estimates that for every 5,000 mines cleared, one clearing specialist is killed and two others are seriously injured. In contrast to these traditional approaches, the Mine Kafon is unmanned. This human toll is now eliminated. Further, the cost-per-landmine-cleared has been dramatically reduced. The Kafon is over 120 times less expensive than classic methods. The Mine Kafon is the most important advancement in mine-clearing technology in the last four decades, saving thousands of lives and millions of dollars. The design was so profound that it is now on permanent display at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.
Having written about the Mine Kafon in my previous book, The Road to Reinvention, I’ve since had the privilege of getting to know Massoud Hassani. In preparation for a call in late 2015, I was expecting him to be basking in his glory. Here’s a kid from rural Afghanistan, with no resources or help, who has gone on to make a massive impact on the world. Additionally, he started a company and is now building a terrific business providing Mine Kafons throughout the world. But instead of ruminating in a celebratory glow, Massoud was fully immersed in the next challenge.
“Detonation is an important problem,” he told me. “But detection is an even bigger issue. There are often miles of open space with only one landmine lurking to cause harm. After the success of the Mine Kafon in detonation, I’ve shifted my efforts to find a more comprehensive solution. I’ve reinvented.”
Today, Massoud is using low-flying drones and is able to cover large swaths of land very quickly. He attaches a robotic arm with a high-powered magnet, flying over open areas to search for mines. In real time, he’s beaming back a video feed along with GPS coordinates, so that newly-detected land mines can be quickly located and conquered.
Massoud Hassani, a hacker of the highest order, achieved unparalleled success with his Mine Kafon. Understanding mindset #3, Nothing Is Static, he quickly used his initial success to tackle the next challenge. Essentially, he disrupted himself. He made the most important change in land mine clearing in over 40 years, and one year later he did it again. I expect that he will have done it again when I speak to him next. Rather than becoming complacent, Massoud continues to challenge himself to learn more, do more, hack more. Massoud Hassani continues to push the boundaries and will use each success as a stepping stone for the next.
LOW RIDER
A man from a tiny rural town in Germany identified his target: an opportunity to abscond with millions in profit. He carefully crafted his hack, a new technology that was sure to infiltrate his mark and best all previous attempts. Through rapid experimentation and unorthodox approaches, this hacker was poised to profit greatly, and send shockwaves throughout the world.
Who was this mysterious misfit? While the description could represent a modern day cybercriminal, our protagonist is none other than Ignaz Schwinn, the grandfather of leisure bicycles, as he founded his company in 1891.
The rise from obscurity to market dominance was driven by interwoven hacks. Schwinn studied the market conditions and was able to see demand taking off for two-wheelers. After a massive surge in demand to over a million units, a slowdown actually provided Schwinn with a clever opening. As other companies struggled through the downturn of 1905, Schwinn took the oppositional view and used it as an opportunity to profit from the weakness of his foes. Voraciously gobbling up limping competitors, he built a modern factory enabling him to mass-produce low-cost bikes. While this sounds obvious today, it was a bold and creative move in Schwinn’s pre-World-War-I era.
Innovation continued for decades in all aspects of the business. In 1933, Schwinn Bicycles, now run by Ignaz’s son Frank W. “F. W.” Schwinn, introduced a radically new concept: a bike that looked like a motorcycle. The Aerocycle had chrome fenders, an imitation gas tank, a shiny headlight, and a push-button bell. Instead of milking the company’s cash cow, F. W. and team pioneered into uncharted territory. The Aerocycle, also known as the “cruiser” or “paperboy,” quickly became the industry standard, driving the company to new heights of growth and profitability. Schwinn revolutionized all aspects of the bike, driving major breakthroughs in tires, seating, handlebars, gears, brakes, and design. They were anything but static.
By the 1950s, Schwinn was the industry leader – they not only pioneered new products, they upended traditional distribution approaches. At the time, most bikes were sold to mass retailers and private labeled (a Sears Supreme or a Woolworth’s Racer). Schwinn, taking an opposing approach, insisted their name and guarantee appear on all bikes. In exchange, they sold to a vast network of distributors, ultimately letting the retailers capture far more profit-per-bike than was possible with the entrenched model. Since retailers and distributors made more cash by selling Schwinn bikes than anything else, you can easily guess which ones they recommended most aggressively to customers. Schwinn was at the innovative forefront of bicycle racing, manufacturing, retail and distribution, branding, and product design. Ironically, it was this very success that led to their undoing.
A shift occurred in the subsequent decade, transforming the firm from a company of hackers to one of protectors. The company squandered their energy fighting to raise tariffs on foreign competition, taking their battle to the courtroom instead of the marketplace. In an effort to maximize profits, they squeezed their distribution network and pressured them to dump competitive products. This led to a decade-long battle with the Department of Justice, ending in a gut-wrenching decision by the U. S. Supreme Court finding Schwinn guilty of restraint of trade and unfair trade practices.
It’s easy to think such a shift wouldn’t happen to you, that you’d see it coming and never fall victim to such an obvious trap. But shifts of this nature happen in small increments. They are not launched as company-wide initiatives, complete with t-shirts and battle cries. Instead, they happen one shortsighted decision at a time. Little acts of neglect leading to big holes of eroded value over time. In the same way the frog that enters the warm water, which increases by only one degree in temperature at a time, doesn’t realize what’s happened until it’s too late, Schwinn’s decay went largely unnoticed until the cascading effect of hundreds of bad decisions ultimately led to ruin.
A glimpse of hope shined through with Schwinn’s invention of the Stingray, a bicycle design representing a low-rider motorcycle with a low-slung banana seat and raised handlebars. But the innovation was easily copied and discount competitors walked away with the lion’s share of profits. In the same way the company was built through a succession