 
The Story of the ThinkPad: Building a Global Success

By Arimasa Naitoh

Introduction

I think that our R&D team, the Yamato Development Lab, has been able to survive for the past two decades by carving out and maintaining its position, just like how the Japanese have established and maintained its place in the world.

We asserted the technological capabilities of Japan within IBM's massive organization by creating the machine known as ThinkPad in 1992, heralding a new age of computing. By the end of 2011, a total of 70 million ThinkPads were shipped worldwide.

The trip was not always an easy one. When we transferred from IBM to a new home in the next-generation global firm, Lenovo, we sensed that something new was about to begin, but we held on to and re-affirmed our identity by continuing to deliver highly regarded products to the world.

In 1985, IBM Japan's development works at Fujisawa was relocated to Yamato, and became the Yamato Development Laboratory, which was assigned the development of personal computers (PCs) for the global market; specifically, battery-powered PCs, which are now known as notebook computers. As luck would have it, I was put in charge of this development.

Our team was ultimately responsible for the development of the ThinkPad series, something that was only achieved through great efforts all-round. Everyone worked non-stop, even through the New Year holidays. My engineers and I worked as much as possible, to the point that there was once, when I went home late in a taxi and was nearly hit by another car. One engineer did not go home from work for several days and was even almost declared missing by his family.

Everything back then was a first: we had to fit everything within a small space, which had to resist shocks and electromagnetic interferences, together with utility, speed and functionality in order to raise user productivity. Through trial and error, we revised designs countless times, which would often result in bottlenecks that brought the plant's production line to a stop. But there were many good memories as well, like how the ThinkPad ran six months over schedule, and eventually fell on my birthday.

As we faced these challenges together, we became a family. The ThinkPad was our pride, our child. All the engineers at the Yamato Development Laboratory were crazy about the ThinkPad. This is why we have remained enthusiastic about Lenovo's acquisition of IBM's PC division and the company's collaboration, and our transfer to a new corporate home.

We were able to endure all these changes because all of us at the Yamato Development Laboratory wanted to create ThinkPads, not just IBM PCs. We gave birth to the ThinkPad, and nurtured its growth. But what we have sought to create and what we were creating was not just another PC, because the work and results of everyone could be seen through the use of our product. A product that disappears from users' awareness as it boosts their productivity exponentially—this is our goal for the ThinkPad. And so our journey in development continued.

Since my father's time, Japanese people have been working hard. Over time the image of the Japanese as the most industrious people on earth has become something of a myth. Today, however, that myth may be more of a delusion. When the book "Japan as Number One" came out in 1979, we started to believe that we were the smartest people in the world, and ever since then label has stuck in our heads.

There is no doubt that Japanese are industrious. We study hard and stay late at work. There is also no doubt that we excel at many things. But there are many people in the world who work harder than we do, and more importantly, work smarter. My worry is that at some point, Japan had begun to fall behind in the global race. People here have started to think that working hard is uncool. Many now feel that they should care more about their private life than their work, and that it is important to have a relaxed lifestyle. This is certainly not a bad thing, but at the same time, the nation's market drifted into a steady contraction, and the economy passed its peak and began to decline. The change in people's way of thinking about work-life balance coincided with this economic shift, which was a combination that threatened to sharply accelerate the pace of decline.

I am not suggesting that working to the death, sacrificing sleep, and ignoring one's family are good things, but looking at Japan's situation in the world today, I cannot help but feel that we need to try harder. This may be no more than my own opinion, but I am convinced that the Yamato Development Laboratory's achievement has built a reputation within the global corporation of IBM and Lenovo as an organization that created and developed the ThinkPad, and is a case study of the Japanese industry competing on the world stage.

From simply trying to survive by asserting our own existence within IBM, to becoming a driving force within the company and then remaining committed even as we changed companies, to always working to strengthen our presence: this was our path to success. Along the way, we felt that we wanted to represent the Japanese people, showing that we can all try harder. Sadly, Japan is now going through a confidence crisis. Most Japanese seem to have begun thinking that Japan is hopeless, a far cry from "Japan as number one". What a pity.

On March 11, 2011, a historic tragedy befell Japan in the form of a giant earthquake and tsunami. This led to an extremely grave accident at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, a crisis that continues even as I write today. Various political issues also entered the picture. Even as we tell ourselves to keep our spirit up, these are trying times. But Japan was not meant to end this way. As a Japanese person, not just a member of a global corporation, I want to shout, "Never say die!"

The ThinkPad was developed and refined as a tool for professionals. The sole criteria for success are whether and how it contributes to raising productivity.

People who work long hours are appreciated, people who practically live in the company are revered, and people who go to work on Saturdays and Sundays are regarded as models—by any means possible, we should promote and provide an environment where such "common sense" does not necessarily rule, and where people can work efficiently and effectively whenever and wherever they want to. All along our aim has been to change the working style of Japan's businesspeople.

This book is a simple account of the journey of a group of people who shared that vision.
Chapter 1 The Philosophy, Struggles and Technology behind the Birth of the ThinkPad

A "Made in Japan" portable PC

When I joined IBM (Japan), their newly established Japanese R&D center was in Fujisawa. Back then, IBM's reputation was as a manufacturer of mainframes, but the Japanese laboratory mainly developed terminals.

The first job I was in charge of was to modify terminals for banks to Japanese specifications. At the time, the direction that Japanese and American magnetic stripe card readers scanned in was different, so terminals developed and manufactured in the United States could not be used as-is in Japan, therefore requiring a number of changes in specifications. I was put in charge of terminal communication technology at that time.

For me, not yet being a computer specialist, this was an extremely valuable experience in terms of gaining an understanding of computers and learning about logic circuits. I was also fortunate that a number of senior people in the lab took me under their wing and taught me a lot.

It was a single-byte (8-bit) world back then, even for computers, meaning that kanji, the Chinese character set used in the Japanese language, could not be displayed. Due to the insufficient number of bits, though it was possible to display the phonetic katakana characters, English lowercase characters could not be typed.

Tackling this challenge, IBM promoted the development of a two-byte kanji code system and established a new product development division to devise Japanese specifications for hardware enabling these complex characters to be displayed and printed. There was a call for people to work on this, and being hungry for new challenges, I immediately volunteered. And so my journey toward the ThinkPad began. IBM terminals displaying kanji for the first time in the world! I thought this was a very exciting prospect and an excellent learning opportunity. Looking back, the world of computers started undergoing significant changes around that time. It was the dawn of the age of distributed, compact, and open systems.

The relationship between mainframes and terminals was simple: mainframes are the brain, and terminals are the limbs. All the processing was done by large-scale computers called mainframes. But around that time, a shift in direction began to occur, it moved towards making terminals more intelligent and performing local tasks locally. This led to the emergence of the personal computer (PC).

Yet there was no concept of the "PC" in Japan at that time, and we called such machines "workstations" (WS), meaning, "work terminals." As the plan was for these to be endowed with the intelligence not only to display kanji characters, but to print them as well, we called them workstations with CPUs. Kanji support was part of this trend.

PCs then did not have fully developed capabilities. CPU speeds were low and memory capacities insufficient, spurring IBM, among others, to begin pouring its energy into the development of workstations capable of displaying and printing kanji. The result was the 5550, a uniquely Japanese product with specifications completely different from those of U.S. products.

Until that point, I had been working on the development of IBM communication terminals, such as the 3270 and 5250. Communication terminal technology was my specialty, so I took charge of the development of the communication adapter for linking the 5550 to IBM's network. Later, I took on the development of main units, overseeing derivative systems such as the 5540 and 5530. This phase corresponded to the development of kanji-capable workstations.

My instruction at the time was to merge Japan's original workstations with the PCs of IBM US. The rationale was that continuing to follow a separate course would keep us from making the most of IBM's power. I was called to the Boca Raton labs in Florida and was assigned to a project team that would work on how to develop IBM PCs and Japanese-language workstations based on the same architecture.

IBM's latest PC at the time was the PS2. In 1982, building on the hardware and design of that machine, a desktop PC called PS55 was developed in Japan. It was in the process of creating this machine that the engineers at the Japanese laboratory learned PC technology, forming a base that would allow them to become the group of engineers that went on to develop world-class PCs.

Seeing this, IBM thought it would let the Japanese laboratory develop PC products for the global market, not just Japanese versions. However, the Boca Raton laboratory in the U.S. was already in charge of desktops and floor standing computers. So what should we Japanese create? We thought about a portable PC, which was something nobody had attempted before. And we thought we'd create this product in Japan.

There were also foreshadowing developments. In 1978, Toshiba had developed the first Japanese-language word processor, and in the '80s, such word processors began to spread in earnest, leading to the emergence of portable Japanese-language word processors in the second half of the decade. There was already an industry of suppliers of parts supporting the development of such products, including plasma display units and light keyboards.

In 1985, the laboratory at Fujisawa was relocated to the city of Yamato, and its name changed from the Fujisawa Development Laboratory to the Yamato Development Laboratory as a result. From that point on, IBM's personal computers have been associated with the name Yamato Development Laboratory.

I, however, was stationed at IBM's headquarters in New York. The development of AC-powered portable PCs was being launched at the Yamato Development Laboratory, and I was in daily contact with the Yamato lab driving development while in New York. But one day, perhaps out of exasperation, the Japanese side suggested that although it had planned to let me stay a while longer in the U.S., it now wanted me to go back immediately. There was no specific mention of what my responsibilities would be, and indeed they may have intentionally been keeping me in the dark. As I got back to Japan, I was told that I would be in charge of the development of battery-powered PCs. This was the start of my long and hard struggle.

A number of battery-powered portable PCs were already on the market by then. The first to appear was Toshiba's Dynabook, a solid product. Compaq was another early pioneer. Adding IBM to this duo, we became one of the Big 3. Thus, IBM was clearly one of the main players in the early days of the portable PC. And Japan, more specifically the Yamato lab, spearheaded development.

Driven to pioneer

Our main development center was the Yamato lab, but the focus of our work was not specific to Japan. Yes, the Yamato lab was at the heart of the R&D effort, and had overall development responsibility, but all of IBM's formidable capabilities were marshaled toward producing revolutionary new products for the world market, and a global network was set up for this purpose.

For example, mechanical design was done at the Boca Raton laboratory in Florida. The design of keyboards was done by the keyboard manufacturing division in Lexington, Kentucky, while the Raleigh Plant in North Carolina and the Greenock Plant in Britain were responsible for their manufacture. Naturally, a large number of partner companies were also involved in development. I was selected to serve as the Development Manager for this organization.

Battery-powered portable PCs are what are now known as notebook computers. This was a completely new type of product for us at the time. Moreover, I was suddenly charged with the major responsibility of managing a project of global proportions—no simple task.

Although I had officially returned to Japan, I made a point of being on location during the various phases, from development to production. For instance, at the initial concept design stage, I would stay in Boca Raton or in California, where a collaborating company was located. Later, at the joint design stage and also at the actual product completion stage, I was in Yamato. For the start of production, I was at the Raleigh Plant. Thus, I was moving between various plants as the development and production sites were distributed all over the world, with the main centers in the U.S. and Japan.

Back then, we had no notebook PCs, no internet, and no email. While in the U.S., I was unable to find out what was happening in Japan even if I wanted to, I had no access to Japanese newspapers. I ended up buying a full-band radio and would place it by the window to listen to short-wave broadcasts from Japan when I was desperate for news.

For internal communications, however, I think that IBM was very innovative. A few years after I joined the company, it established a worldwide online system for all employees. There were no video or audio capabilities, only text, and since email went through a large-scale computer, it could only be used at the company. We could make conference calls, but video conferencing was of course not available at the time. This was an age in which going onsite and talking face-to-face were still very important. Conference calls were also part of my daily routine. In those days, I led product developments over the phone with Boca Raton or Raleigh when I was in Japan; and with Japan when I was in Raleigh. So although I belonged to the Yamato lab, I was almost never there.

During that period, Takenobu Yonemochi (currently a managing director at Lenovo Japan) managed design activities at the Yamato lab, on a de facto basis. Though a keyboard specialist, he had general oversight of mechanical design. One time, as I had just returned to Japan, I received a phone call from Yonemochi's wife.

"Is this Naitoh-san? Kenshin (what his wife called him) has been hospitalized."

I rushed to visit him, and was relieved to find out that his condition was not serious. This goes to show how everybody was struggling like mad at the time.

Another time, I got a call from the wife of a junior member staff, asking me where her husband had gone. He was actually at the company, but he had not gone home in three days and failed to let anyone know where he was. His anxious family thought he had gone missing.

Everyone on the team went through a lot of hardship. This indicated how difficult it is to develop a new area. Our motivation was not due to company allegiance or salary. The conditions were so extreme that we could not have overcome them had we not been following an internal desire. I'm convinced that we were all driven by a deeper wish for self-realization, the challenges of exploring and pushing back the frontier, and the sense of achievement in opening up new territories. Our bodies were completely exhausted, but there was a fire in our eyes.

The war on EMI

Notebook PCs are now common. They can be carried around, allowing people to work away from their desks, in conference rooms and meeting rooms at companies, and also toted outside for use on business trips, or at cafes or anywhere, really. It's easy to connect to the world, wherever you may be, over a wireless LAN or 3G connection. Today, these technologies appear simple and straightforward, but many obstacles lay in the path to their development. Hurdles needed to be cleared before any of these technologies can be achieved. We need to overcome these challenges in order to achieve the smallest possible size, the lightest weight, and the greatest user-friendliness, all combined with long battery life and high processing speed.

As an example, minimizing interference from unwanted electromagnetic radiation waves, known as spurious emissions, was no easy task. It is necessary to reduce this occurrence, which is commonly referred to as EMI (electromagnetic interference), to prevent the "noise" that compromises electronic transmissions such as TV reception, and meet country regulations.

Spurious electromagnetic wave radiation peaks in a high frequency range that is two, three, or even 10 times the basic frequency of a given device, such as a CPU operating at a given number of gigahertz. Nowadays, we have a nifty technique called spread spectrum that spreads out this basic frequency over a frequency range that does not trigger system errors. In the case of a basic frequency of 10 GHz, the peaks can be made shallower by spreading the frequency over the range of 9.99X to 10.00X GHz. In other words, this approach reduces the energy concentration for a given frequency. This technique was patented a long time ago, but only recently became practical. Before that, reducing interference by spurious emissions was a major challenge. Every electronics company had a large EMI testing room and was equipped with various highly sensitive testing devices and verification apparatus.

Often, we would create a new board, perform measurements and find out that it generated spurious emissions. We would try to contain this radiation mechanically, but after finding this impossible, we'd go back and redesign the board, through the process of trial and error. The greatest difficulty lay not in board design, but in the fact that the torque with which a single screw was tightened might influence the result. So even if we created 10 units of identical designs, it might be difficult to complete all to a satisfactory level. And of course no units could be shipped until spurious emissions could be suppressed.

The issue did not end with spurious emissions, however. The problem of interference within the machine proper was also a major hurdle. We were trying to fit various components, each interfering with the others through wave emissions, into a very small space. Even if we used the same parts, slight differences in how a coil was wound in each part could lead to a completely different result. All too often, just when we thought that things would definitely work, a glitch would appear in the production line, leaving us speechless. Even during final product testing, we would see products flagged with defect tags cropping up one after another.

A birthday surprise

As mentioned earlier, during the production stage, the supervision of the Yamato lab was entrusted to Yonemochi, while I was stationed at the Raleigh Plant. It would have been preferable to have had larger allowances for our designs, but in the initial stages of production this was impossible, as we had to cram so many components and parts into a small space. As a result, there were many problems at the plant. As I had to oversee the production line, I was unable to even go back to my hotel. At an even earlier stage, we would often be running the production line as designed, but the line would suddenly stop, forcing us to make specific changes. Moreover, this was the first time the production line operators were making such small products, and we had many freshly minted employees working on the line wearing shiny new IBM badges. So we had to deal not only with design problems, but inexperienced operators to boot. At first, I chipped in with advice on various aspects of the job. The production line operated in three shifts around the clock, and line operators were able to clock out when their shifts ended. But I had to greet the people of the next shift so I frequently had no chance to return to my hotel. The best I could manage was to rush back to my room once in a while for a shower. This went on for about two months. (Although I was treated as a VIP at the hotel where I was staying, I wasn't able to enjoy the benefits and remember feeling down rather often.)

Our first product was scheduled for a commercial launch in September 1990, but this ended up being pushed back until March of the following year. As in so many things, the work dictates the schedule. We even worked on New Year's Eve. I remember calling Yonemochi in Japan from Raleigh on that day to let him know that I had sent a fax about some problem. I was trying to be casual describing it, but of course he would have to go in to the office to read that fax. Essentially, I was asking him to go to work on New Year's Eve, an important day for families in Japan. On top of that, my fax said that this had to be taken care of by the next day. Yonemochi immediately called his people in, and thus the Japanese development team's work into the New Year began. We were already past the planned shipping date, and we were inevitably under intense pressure. It got to the point where I could almost see an electronic billboard in my mind displaying the number of days we were behind schedule.

After a succession of struggles, the day on which we finally received authorization to ship fell on March 13, 1991. By coincidence, this happened to be my birthday. I relayed the good news to Yonemochi in Japan, and remember that after I hung up the receiver, my Raleigh co-workers sang me "Happy Birthday To You." They then took out some items and gave them to me, saying they were presents. It was all the parts that had failed during development! Everyone had set them aside somewhere for the occasion. One item, for example, was a cover that had ended up blocking the slot of the floppy disk drive, a device one rarely sees these days. Another item was presented to me with explanation note saying, "This is a cap made of wrapping foil you used on the production line to prevent the electromagnetic waves from a coil from causing floppy disk errors."

The PS/2 L40SX was the result of overcoming these many difficulties. This PC, which could be called the predecessor of the ThinkPad, was marketed as a battery-powered laptop PC.

ThinkPad built on 700C's success

I believe that the success of the ThinkPad series was assured by the popularity of the first model, the 700C (known as the PS/55note C52 486SLC in Japan). This was launched in October 1992. No one knew at that time the extent to which notebook PCs would be embraced by the market, or how much market share they could capture. The degree of acceptance of the first model would therefore determine the level of future investment in the series. At the time, there were only around three manufacturers of notebook PCs, and they all shared this uncertainty.

The 700C incorporated all the technologies we learned during the development of the PS/2 L40SX. Technologies for minimizing EMI, saving energy, and battery management technology, as well as the newly developed MCA (micro-channel architecture) chipset and a 10.4-inch color liquid crystal display, the largest class at the time, were all built into the 700C.

The PS/2 L40SX, predecessor of the ThinkPad

released in March 1991

The ThinkPad 700C, a notebook PC with a TFT color liquid crystal display

and the first model to use the ThinkPad name

I don't know about the company's view on this, but what I wanted to achieve was an amalgamation of the various technologies we had. The Yamato lab already had developed various technology groups by that point, including one with expertise in LCDs (liquid crystal displays). Nowadays, color TFT displays are commonplace, but at the time, a product featuring a color LCD and active matrix technology was an object of wonder. The Yamato lab possessed all the technologies needed to make such a product possible. Compact hard disks (HD) were also made at the Yamato lab. As was the TrackPoint, which was developed by a fellow at IBM's Almaden lab in the U.S., which was incorporated as a new pointing device.

I insisted that we should have swappable IBM-made hard disks and a 10.4-inch color TFT display on an A4-sized PC, and that we should integrate all these technologies. Making a notebook PC required shrinking the motherboard as well; luckily, IBM's Yasu plant, which was the center for board design and production, had this technology. LCD production was also done at the Yasu plant.

Looking back, I feel that the groundwork had already been laid for developing a compact portable PC in Japan, and in particular at the Yamato lab. The fact that Japan had many excellent battery manufacturers also worked in our favor.

To tell the truth, I had originally envisioned the ThinkPad's design as being white. Development work had already progressed quite a bit with a white case when Richard Sapper, who worked as an IBM design consultant, and the corporate ID team came to me and announced that, "the color will be black." A simple change in color would have been fine, but I was also asked to change the design to its current angular form, inspired by the traditional square Shokado lunchbox, which had been proposed by Kazuhiko Yamazaki of the Yamato lab. Though we belonged to the same organization, the design team was independent and under a different division, and I was not well informed in advance about that decision.

"What, at this stage?" I asked, in shock.

This was how I honestly felt at the time. However, I had no choice but to comply with the decision, which meant that changes in the design became a necessity. This was how the current design of the ThinkPad, clad in matte black with a red TrackPoint as an accent, came to be.

Indeed, the ThinkPad name itself was not decided until just prior to the sales launch. As is commonly known, the origin of the name was the motto "Think!" which had been introduced as an IBM slogan by chairman and CEO Thomas J. Watson, Sr. IBM employees used to walk around with notepads with "Think" written on their cover, from which the name of the ThinkPad was born. The person who decided the ThinkPad name was Bruce Claflin, then General Manager of the PC division.

The logo mark was also selected later. It is now different, but the original design, which featured the words IBM and ThinkPad engraved at an angle, was symbolic. The logo's slanted orientation was unique to the ThinkPad among IBM's products. The IBM logo features three colors—the red, green and blue of the RGB color space—to commemorate the color TFT liquid crystal display. For versions featuring a monochromatic LCD, it was decided that only the color blue would be used for the logo.

The problem-tracking system and the headaches of the development manager

There were many hardships, but I personally tend to forget such things. Instead, I recall being happy when, each time we proposed a new ThinkPad, we would get positive feedback from users. I was honestly moved each time. Of course, many hurdles had to be cleared each time before we could reach that point. The organization itself being young and the product category new, we lacked any pre-existing standards, and so had to set new specifications and design accordingly each time. Problems are bound to occur in such situations, and I sometimes felt as if I was drowning under the number of difficulties we were faced with in the beginning.

Though different manufacturers probably have different names for it, we had what we called a problem-tracking system for managing these challenges. Someone may find a problem and write it down as a memo in a notebook, but that memo is likely to get lost somewhere and thus fail to receive timely scrutiny. So when a problem occurs, it is important to systematically assign that problem a number and release information describing what happened. The person in the development team responsible for initially receiving such public memos then determines who should be assigned to look into it. This is a crucial skill that can make all the difference to a development project.

Say a problem is thought to be related to the BIOS (Basic Input/Output System), which is firmware that controls peripheral devices. Once the issue is determined to be BIOS-related, ownership of the problem, as it's called, passes to the BIOS manager. When the BIOS manager reports, "The problem indeed had to do with the BIOS, and it has been fixed," the problem is put in the "Verify" category, indicating that the problem is now verifiable. The case file then goes back to the person who originally discovered the problem. That person checks the file, and if the problem is confirmed to have been solved, the case is closed. In other words, when a problem is discovered, it is systematically tracked through the Open→Working→Verify→Close steps to completion.

However, the nature of a problem cannot always be identified. For example, after studying the problem, the BIOS manager may report back, "This is not a BIOS problem. I think that the problem may lie in the electronic circuits." Such cases are labeled "transfer," as the owner of the problem then switched from the BIOS manager to the person in charge of electronic circuits, who then re-examines it. Such problems can occur by the dozen every day. Before a product is completed, thousands of such problems will be found, every single one of which must be solved. This is the job of engineers.

Naturally, development work must follow a schedule, as product development cannot be allowed to drag on forever. Thus it is necessary to specify by when the test period is to end if the schedule is to be met. The person who discovered the problem can therefore set a deadline for fixing it. Based on this, a schedule is drawn up that sets a deadline for verification and for when the case is to be closed. Such schedules are always over-optimistic, and so even though people have been told endlessly about the importance of keeping on schedule, the pressure mounts daily, with questions such as "Why are dozens of problems still cropping up at this stage?" and "Why is this still only in the working stage?"

Based on personal experience, I believe that the most important skill of a development manager is the ability to put together, in his mind, how things will play out and determine whether one is running into disaster or still doing well. For example, and this happens often, when asking the persons in charge of some task how they are doing, the worst possible answer to get is, "We're working on it." I can tell just by looking that they're doing that. What I want to hear is information on how many problems they are having now, on the number of problems they expect further down the line given the current rate, and whether they think they'll be fine by a given date. It goes without saying that "We're thinking about it" falls short as an answer.

If someone tells me, "I'd like to have us figure this out in, say, three days." I'll ask him, "When you say 'figure this out,' what exactly do you mean?" To which he might reply, "Whether it's an electrical problem or a software problem." This is the type of step-by-step approach I use when confronting problems. You don't need empty statements like, "Well, maybe it'll be okay."

The failure of the development manager to have a solid grasp of the situation may ultimately rip a hole in the entire business. To avoid this, the development manager must put continuous pressure on the engineers, and repeat this until this process becomes a routine that is carried out over and over. I suppose this might well be called a form of hardship.

Why the emphasis on robustness?

I am very confident in the sturdiness of the ThinkPad. The path to the ThinkPad's rugged design was marked by various dramatic episodes. In those days, a colored notebook PC carried a price tag of about one million yen; it was a very expensive piece of equipment. Whether it was destroyed during testing or broken by a customer, it would represent a loss of one million yen. Our engineers thought at first that such an expensive article should be handled delicately, and so no thought was actually given to making notebook PCs tough. But once sales started, we discovered that some people would manage to break them. The products being so expensive, brought serious consequences for the person responsible for the breakage. People would say "It broke," rather than "I broke it." Such is human psychology. This made our engineers change their mind: Making the product rugged would be better for customers as well as for us, as pricey parts breaking frequently during the product warranty period could cause us large losses.

As notebook PCs prices declined with their increasing popularity, this trend became ever more pronounced. Everyone started carrying notebook PCs, greatly raising the probability of accidents through dropping, bumping, or the application of excessive loads. As the name suggests, portable PCs were developed so that they could be carried around on a daily basis, but there were still instances of use (carrying style) that far exceeded our expectations.

A second important point is that the ThinkPad was originally a product intended for corporations, that is, for business use. The basic business model is to ship several tens of thousands units to a single company. Purchase orders as large as 100,000 units for major corporations are not unusual, meaning that even if the probability of an accident is low, some kind of accident or problem is expected almost daily even within a single company. The quality expectations between a consumer user who purchases one unit and a corporation that purchases 100,000 units differ considerably, even more so when the users are 100,000 different persons, meaning a variety of usage styles and breakage modes.

Thus, following the launch of the ThinkPad, all kinds of negative data accumulated in our database. While each had a different priority level as determined by its urgency and importance, it was our responsibility to open all these cases and see them to a close. During that process, we learned that unless we understood the behavior of customers (users) and saw things from their viewpoint, by observing and learning in their environment to understand why specific problems occurred, we would not be able to thoroughly solve them. And thus as we took care of business, we achieved valuable knowledge.

Even members of the development team need to learn from and explain things to users as they interact with them. So, although we were confident, we were also strongly aware that we are educated by our customers. I am loath to say this, but problems that don't come up even when we monitor a hundred machines arranged side by side for one year sometimes readily appear on customers' PCs. In the early stage, collecting user feedback was as efficient in practice as running final tests on 100,000 machines all at once. Of course, during development, we create machines capable of withstanding all kinds of assumed conditions, but even so, we had no choice but to set the criteria ourselves, as we had no precedents to go by. The resulting products are often used by end users in completely unexpected ways, often in a more aggressive manner than anticipated. Sometimes this comes as a refreshing surprise, and all such discoveries provide valuable lessons, which are full of potential for driving evolution and growth.

If a given part breaks when subject to some form of use, we would determine that this part must have a set amount of strength, and request that specific degree of durability from the parts manufacturer. Over time, that level goes on to become an industry standard. This is the way things often play out.

If you think of a given breakage as an accident, it will be negative data, but if you consider this as the discovery of a new usage method, it becomes positive input for driving evolution. The ways in which individual customers use their PCs are more innovative than we could imagine, because they make full use of their machines as business tools and come up with many new ideas in seeking ways to maximize their usefulness. For instance, we found that motherboards would often break at a certain university in the U.S, but were utterly at a loss as to why. So we sent over four or five engineers from Japan and had them live with the students for a week or so, during which time they were able to observe how the students used their PCs.

What they saw was that the students would throw their PCs into backpacks already crammed with hardcover books and other belongings, and ride their bicycles on the campus and other locations. These days, this kind of scene can be seen also in Japan, but at the time, we could not have imagined it. Under such conditions, the machines are subjected to extremely high stress. Also, when a student gets off his bike to redo his shoelaces, he leans over. In that position, the items in his backpack get strongly compressed, further increasing the stress applied to the computer, sometimes causing the solder of the motherboard to come off. This was not something we had anticipated. Then, a few years later, such issues began arising at companies too, but as we had already begun to revise our quality standards, we were able to respond quickly. This is one example of how we implemented the Open→Working→Verify→Close process. In this way, a specific complaint and a single discovery may lead to the revision of both basic design standards and evaluation standards.

Developing test equipment to simulate the stresses and tensions applied under such usage conditions was another important task for us. Before making products, we would make the tools for evaluating them as well. The type of tools to create and the type of test tools to provide are also extremely valuable know-how. So let me explain a bit about our current quality tests. Notebook PCs are machines that come into their own when they are carried about. No matter how high the performance of the CPU or how long the battery life, these features are meaningless unless the machine is durable enough to be carried around casually, and quiet enough to be used anywhere.

To this end, we run a number of quality tests, many of which you could call torture tests. For example, robustness is tested through a few tests: the free-fall drop test - opening the display while the OS is running and dropping the ThinkPad unit from a height greater than that of a desk; the corner drop test, in which the ThinkPad unit is subjected to a free fall from each of its eight corners, so that each drop impact is concentrated in the opposite corner, after which the cover and internal elements are inspected for damage; and the tilt drop test, in which an operating ThinkPad is held from one side, lifted and dropped from a height of a few centimeters, to check for possible damage to the HDD. There is also a liquid spill test, during which a powered-on ThinkPad has a certain amount of liquid (milk, soda, etc.) spilled onto its keyboard, to check whether the liquid drains and avoids the precision circuits. Other tests include the dust resistance test, in which the ThinkPad unit is operated in a dusty environment and its operation and condition is checked; and the operating noise measurement test that measures noise emissions, such as the sounds of the cooling fan and HDD access, in a special acoustic chamber.

Top Photo

Special acoustic chamber where operating noise measurement tests

are conducted to confirm quietness

A focus on customer value: The birth of the 753 and the alphabet series

After all our trials and challenges, the 700C was ultimately a success and so the ThinkPad Series was born. Both IBM and our group saw vast potential in the notebook PC market, and as a result a tremendous amount of energy was poured into building the ThinkPad business.

For some time after the launch, a single series was developed for the ThinkPad platform, but as notebook PCs carved out a niche for themselves in the business world, the number of users rapidly increased and the needs of customers diversified as well. Usage styles also became increasingly varied, and price perception variations began to emerge. It became necessary to develop a diversified lineup in order to meet the broad range of customer needs. This led to the 500 and the 300 Series following the success of the 700 Series. Collectively, these came to be known as 753.

The 500 Series was launched in May 1996, while the 380 Series was released in May the following year. At the same time, we introduced a platform for each series, replacing the single platform up to that point.

There had actually been an earlier 300 Series, but that was simply a reduced-cost version of the 700 Series. The 380 Series consisted of models that pursued high product quality at a lower range of prices than the 700 Series. The 500 Series meanwhile aimed for an extremely thin body, light weight, and superior portability, employing an external floppy disk drive for this reason. It additionally featured a 12.1-inch liquid crystal display, which was considered large at the time. As a result, this series used a one-spindle platform with only an internal hard disk drive.

The 570 Series that came after the 560 Series added an UltraBase, which is an extension unit that directly connects to the main unit functions that have been subtracted to make it thinner and lighter. Attaching the main unit to this docking device allowed the easy connection of a floppy disk drive, CD-ROM drive, and various other peripheral devices.

Later, the 600 Series, which inherited most of the features of the 700 Series while featuring a thinner and lighter design, was introduced.

In 2000, the lineup was further streamlined and strengthened. The A Series and the T Series came out at the same time. In Japan, these two series were launched in May 2000. In August that year, the X Series was also introduced.

The A Series was an A4-sized all-in-one notebook PC positioned as a successor to the 700 and the 300 Series. The high-performance A Series models that were the successors to the 700 Series had a "P" appended to the product name to distinguish them from the successors to the 300 Series of middle-range models. The R Series of more economical models was added later, in 2001.

The T Series, which consists of A4-sized notebook PCs, is the successor of the 600 Series. The X Series, a series of B5-sized thin and light notebooks, was positioned as the successor of the 500 Series. This in fact came after the 570 Series of A4-size notebooks with a 13.3-inch screen, but as the result of marketing research for the Japanese market, a more compact version B5-sized notebook with a 12.1-inch display became the entry-level model.

At the time, I was often asked about the meaning of these letters, A, T, X, and R. The "A" stands for "Alternative to a desktop computer." "T" stands for "Thin-and-light notebook." "X" stands for "eXtra-light, eXtra-small ultraportable." And "R" stands for "Reliable."

At the beginning of 2000, the word "traveler" came into fashion. It described a business person who travels around the world with a notebook PC — a market served by ThinkPad's X and T Series. In Europe and the US, the T Series was synonymous with the traveler's notebook PC, but in Japan, the X Series was overwhelmingly popular. I think there are three main reasons for these different preferences. First is the carrying style. The Japanese use trains as their basic mode of transportation, whereas Europeans and Americans tend to travel by car, which makes them more tolerant of bigger sizes and particularly, weights. Europeans and Americans use keyboards from a young age, and thus favor a standard-size keyboard, while the Japanese are more flexible about keyboard size and readily adapt to smaller keyboards.

One more reason is the general preference of the Japanese for smaller things (there is even an expression for this, which translates as "light, small, short and thin"), and a view that the smaller a product can be made, the more outstanding its technology. In this regard, Europeans and Americans are the opposite, as they tend to view a small size as referring to inferior functionality. However, the X Series is a B5-sized machine on the road, but when paired with the UltraBay back in the office, it acquires the same ease of use and functionality of an A4-sized machine, a concept that gradually made its way across to European and American users.

Actually, during the initial stages of development in the 1990s, the focus tended to be on how to incorporate leading-edge technologies, which was only natural as these were constantly evolving. It was an engineer-driven age, which might also be described as "industry first."

However, as this priority was maintained, product variations within the same ThinkPad family became numerous, jeopardizing the brand's unity. Excessive variations, for example positioning the Power button in completely different locations, meant sacrificing both user friendliness and the commonality of parts. So from 2000, as we were moving on to the second generation, we began aiming to unify usability. Starting with the alphabet series, we sought to unify the user interface and peripheral devices for a friendlier user experience.

Since then, we have been applying and introducing the latest technologies, but even more so, we have sought to deliver genuine customer value, as it would be meaningless just to indulge ourselves as engineers.

What is customer value? Whether a technology is interesting to an engineer is not what matters. What truly matters, and what we sought to promote, is the importance of satisfying and creating value for the customer through the application of the technology.

ThinkPad701C

The ThinkPad 701C, the world's first notebook PC to feature

a butterfly (foldout) keyboard, announced in 1995

The importance of bringing together the views of marketers and engineers

Marketing is essential for making products that maximize customer value by using the skills of engineers. We have briefly covered the evolution of the ThinkPad under IBM, and I had a hand in shaping its course as well. While close working relations between marketers and engineers are needed, there are also unbridgeable differences between the two, which, given the nature of their roles, is only to be expected. Only by working to overcome such differences can great products be born.

Marketers respond to market demands. They obtain opinions such as "we want such-and-such" from customers, digest this information and pass it on to the engineers. Almost all the elements of such requirements are already present in products that are already available. For example, marketers tend to pick and choose from among features of competitors' products. This is of course a valuable approach. For engineers, however, it is our nature, even our duty, to bring new and unfamiliar technologies to the market. This is a practice called product-out; the risk here is of releasing a product ahead of its time that ends up failing.

Looking back, we had already developed a tablet PC in 1992 under IBM. Unfortunately, that product was not well accepted at the time. I believe that this was because the groundwork had not been laid, and the environment unprepared. Pen input devices were also launched around 1993. Such devices have finally come into wider use recently. However, back then, such devices were little more than speculative on the part of engineers. Stylus input was at the technological leading edge, so we felt compelled to build it in.

This device was ahead of its time technologically, and although it was covered extensively by the media, users did not take to it. They did not understand how to use it, or what it was for. This was the honest reaction of the market. To us, it was a case of having failed to sufficiently explain the value of the pen input device. Simply launching a device in the market does not mean that its new features will promote themselves on their own. I believe that we have had quite a few such experiences in the past.

What's important is that engineers and marketers harmonize their views, and work together to develop products in a given direction in a given year, creating a strong portfolio.

We offer end products that directly interface with customers, which allow us to collect the views, complaints, and requests of customers. While we listen closely to these voices, we cannot remain captive to them, and must remember to add our own imagination as creators.

Balancing conflicting needs—an engineer's never-ending challenge

Once the portfolio design and concept kickoff have been completed, a list of wants and needs, called the MRD (market requirements document), arrives from marketing. The engineers review the list, consider what is, and is not, possible from the development side, and determine the actual functional specifications.

For a notebook PC, this is the toughest stage and this is where the development manager's skills come in. There is always the need to make the notebook PC as thin and as light as possible. But at the same time, there is the conflicting desire to also cram in many functions. Battery life is also a priority. The list goes on and on.

This gives rise to complications. The use of a harder cover, for example, drives up the cost. There is also the question of the amount of pressure on the cover which will cause it to push against the LCD, which in turn will press against the keyboard. And if we use a particular material for the cover, how many tenths of a millimeter should the gap be, between the LCD and the keyboard, for the product to pass the "torture tests"? That gap must be sufficiently large, but will also make the product thicker. Now we need to decide whether to use a more expensive cover, for a thinner profile.

Some might say to run some simulations but this only reveals an incorrect understanding of what simulations are capable of. No simulation can give a yes or no answer when the data is input. No machine or software can make decisions for you. If one opts for safety, the product will end up being heavy and thick. If, on the other hand, one focuses exclusively on market needs and designs a notebook PC with zero gap between the LCD and the keyboard, things may go well all the way up to the point of no return, when the molds are completed, but in many cases, such a design will end up failing. How does one assess the best approach? Such conflicts are ever-present and perfection is impossible. Materials and technologies meanwhile keep on evolving, making it always possible to further push the envelope, meaning one has to constantly wrestle with such questions to identify the best solution. This requires some experience. Developing such experience is required not only for development managers, but for every engineer involved. It would be impossible to suddenly gather 100 engineers, organize them into teams, and tell them to make a notebook PC from the next day.

One more thing required from engineers is the ability to explain things. Say marketing tells us that a particular item should measure 1-inch. If, at this time, 1.1-inch is the shortest length that can be achieved, the other party will not be convinced if we reply that 1-inch is impossible. Only a length of 1.1-inch can be achieved." The reason for this needs to be thoroughly explained to the other party's satisfaction. This is the most important point when working together to fine-tune a design, and engineers must be able to give clear and to-the-point presentations and explanations.

The same applies to development proposals. Proposals that only cover a favored method don't work. You need to make it clear why a proposed method is the better one by covering all conceivable cases and explaining their respective merits and demerits. Simply saying "This is what I'd like you to allow me to do," only raises questions, such as, "Is this the only method? Is it the best?" This methodology can be applied far more broadly than just getting one's proposals approved. Highlighting the process you consider to be the best by reviewing many different methods and cases is more important than anything else.

The relentless pursuit of speed: PCs are not commodities

Notebook PCs are expected to have many different functions, and this is certainly true for the ThinkPad. The most important among them, we believe, is speed. This refers to processing speed, of course, but also to speed of communication.

Over the 18 years that I've been involved in the development of ThinkPads, I've heard it said many times that "it's already fast enough." And every time I've thought, "No, it isn't."

A wider array of functions is required for users to use their computer more naturally. This means pushing the CPU to its limits. So I have always maintained that ceasing to pursue higher speeds for CPUs and communication devices would stop the progress of the industry.

Even now, I still hear people say that sufficient speed has now been attained. They say things like "We now have enough speed, please make the products thinner and lighter." Definitely, making notebook PCs thinner and lighter is important, but if we stop pursuing even higher speeds, PCs will have no future. It is true that today's PCs rarely make us wait for a long time while processing a standalone configuration. They respond immediately in such cases. But what about the speed of communication with the outside? When viewing a website, the screen does not change instantly to another screen when we switch websites. When such switching is slow, we might be kept waiting for as long as 10 or 15 seconds. Does this mean that we can take care of some other task in the meantime? Usually, the answer is no so we have no choice but to wait. Multiplied across many instances throughout a day, the time losses can be substantial, from several minutes to several tens of minutes each day.

I believe in speed. For this reason, I think that PCs must become much faster than they are now. To achieve this, there still are many things that we engineers need to do, including the areas of cooling and total battery management. I absolutely do not believe that today's computers have become just another mature commodity.

In the world of marketing, many products are said to have become commoditized, meaning a category of products that are common and undifferentiated, opening up widespread price competition.

Unfortunately, personal computers including notebook PCs, are often said to be a commodity, both in Japan and abroad. But engineers still have plenty to do so personal computers cannot be said to be a commodity, as there is still ample room for evolution.

People who claim that personal computers are a commodity may be saying that whatever machine one uses, it all comes out the same. But if we follow this logic, the things that can be done with such commoditized PCs might well be no more than commodity-level tasks. If one's work is a commodity, the functions required of a PC are few, and the speed and capacity requirements need not be that high.

In truth, the use of a differentiated machine should enhance work efficiency or allow one to work more effectively, thus raising productivity. And in that case, neither the PC nor the work can be called commodities.

Enhancing value through the ThinkVantage approach

The ThinkPad is a tool for raising the work productivity and competitiveness of businesspeople. This was true in the past and continues to hold true today. The ThinkPad's functions, which have evolved and expanded over time, are designed with this single purpose in mind, and have sought to eliminate any self-satisfied complacency that fails to contribute to the creation of customer value among our engineers. ThinkPads, which are intended chiefly for corporate users, have functions that not only raise the productivity of end users at companies, but also that of information technology managers.

PCs consist of both hardware and software, and the general term we use for such software functions is "ThinkVantage" technologies.

The important point is to create a user interface that is so intuitive that the PC is "invisible" to the end users' awareness.

A typical example is "Access Connections," which allows users to connect to networks easily and ubiquitously. By using this function, it is possible to achieve high-level security at the operating system level without sophisticated security knowledge, and by creating profiles for various networks, such as the company network, one's home network, and hotspots, it is possible to use one's PC safely anywhere. The same goes for security, where the ThinkPad's aim is to provide a safe computing environment without having to worry about the security environment.

There are also various ThinkVantage tools for information technology managers. One such tool is Ultra Image Building, which allows automatic installation of only the software that is needed from a master set, by specifying the user's department or job title.

By way of closing this chapter, let me also explain about what we call ThinkVantage design.

The ThinkPad's TrackPoint, the red pointing device in the center of the keyboard, is famous as it allows users to quickly move the pointer from one end of the screen to the opposite end by slightly varying the pressure of one finger on the stick, without having to move their other fingers from their typing position.

The TrackPad reproduces on a pad, the multitouch gesture function normally used on a screen. Hand and finger movements can be minimized through the combined use of the TrackPad with the TrackPoint.

The TrackPoint has become a symbol of the ThinkPad.

There are actually three types of TrackPoint caps.

The ThinkPad also has four rubber feet on its bottom panel to absorb shock. The two rubber feet that face the user have a special swollen, heaved shape. The engineers in charge actually took inspiration from the paw pads of cats, which lessen the shock of the impact when cats land from a jump or fall. When users place a PC on a desk or some other surface, they sometimes let go of the front first to avoid getting their fingers pinched, and the two front paw pad shaped rubber feet protect the PC from the resulting impact.

The ThinkPad is also famous for the tactile feel of its keyboard, which is the result of thorough research on the operational feel of keys, which our engineers call "force curve." They spent many hours designing keyboards, tuning the tactile feel of the keys to achieve an exquisite click action. A quiet key stroke has been achieved by reducing the typing sound, and the gap between the key caps has also been made narrower to prevent foreign matter from falling to the bottom of the keys.

Moreover, the ThinkPad has an endoskeleton-like internal frame called the ThinkPad Roll Cage to make it more rugged. This frame made from a magnesium alloy that is both light and strong effectively reduces flexing of the ThinkPad's body when it is toted around.

Another feature of the ThinkPad is its rain gutter-like structure. Called the drain system, it is designed to drain away any liquid that is accidentally spilled on the keyboard so as to protect important internal parts from moisture. By using a bathtub-like structure for the keyboard, channels are formed inside the ThinkPad that allow water to drain off without affecting the circuits.

For the purpose of a quiet and cooling performance, engineers took inspiration from the owl's feathers. As it's extremely important for notebook PCs to efficiently discharge internal heat, a cooling fan is constantly running, but the noise emitted by this fan is an issue. Each feather lining the edge of the wings of owls is shaped to create micro-turbulence that breaks down the large turbulence generated by the entire wing, allowing owls to fly silently. This system has been adapted to the blades of the cooling fan to boost cooling performance while solving the problem of noise. Through the addition of a series of such refinements to the design, we were able to achieve and incorporate a large collection of engineering features.

Chapter 2 Manufacturing Craftsmanship that Seeks to Advance Products

It's a mistake to set numerical targets before defining the customer value to be achieved

I always tell the engineers in charge of development that I want them to create things that they can explain to customers. I don't want the ThinkPad to be a faceless product with unknown creators, and I always seek to explain to customers and reporters that ThinkPads are created by Yamato lab engineers. I want our products to be products with a human face.

When engineers explain things to customers, they should not use words that customers can't understand. I used to ask engineers, "If journalists were to come over, how would you explain this product to them? Explain the product to me as if this were a press conference."

In the beginning, I would usually stop them one or two minutes into their presentations. Not that I had decided to do so beforehand, but I just had to stop them when I heard them—for a very straightforward reason.

I would ask them, "Are you explaining it to me like that because you think that I'm an engineer?" And when I would urge them to, "please explain the value of this product one more time without using such technical terms, as if I were a customer," almost all would freeze up and ask for some more time before starting all over again. Over and over. This would get them thinking about the value of what they were doing.

When I say "value," I do not mean value for the company, for the engineers, or for professionals. The only value I mean is value for all users - customer value.

These mock press conferences were not intended to teach engineers how to explain things. Sure, it is important to acquire the skill to explain difficult technology with the right words. However, that is not the main point. What really matters is whether that technology, and product meet the customer's values, whether the specifications have meaning for the customer, and whether they make a difference that the customer can understand. Developing something without knowing this, without determining this, is risky, as this may result in a product or feature that means nothing to customers.

It is easier for an engineer to understand this if you ask him to explain a product instead of asking what its customer value. I would say, "We want to have the customer understand what we are doing. We want the customer to understand the product's value." When an engineer seeks to, or starts to, explain a product in this manner, but the direction of that technology or development is incorrect (in other words it does not lead to customer value), the engineer will be unable to explain it in terms that can be easily understood by the average customer. Using or thinking with technical terms prevents engineers from realizing this.

I don't know exactly how I came to think this way, and I can't offer any interesting or memorable episodes. But I have had many opportunities to explain the ThinkPad to reporters. At places such as press conferences, they will ask you things like, "What kind of features does this latest product have?" In this case, I would always begin by explaining some part of the technology. I would explain the technology, bit by bit. But increasingly, I began to feel that my explanations did not get across to customers, even if techies and reporters understood them.

An engineer who knows what he wants to offer to the user, in other words one who has internalized the development intent, will tell me something like "Naitoh-san, this is what I wanted to achieve with this product. That's it!" I wanted my engineers to engage in manufacturing craftsmanship based on this way of thinking, so they would be able to explain products in a more natural manner.

Looking back, at the bottom of all this was my strong desire to tell customers more about the ThinkPad. Press conferences are one place where we can speak to potential customers, through the journalists, about the purpose and merits of the product and what can be achieved by using it. Also, while developers have few opportunities to directly explain their products to customers, they do have opportunities to speak about their approach to manufacturing craftsmanship as they travel abroad to meet marketers and sales executives in various countries. What to say and how to say it so that I would be understood was for me, the issue.

It is not easy to work out how to best explain a concept or development intent to people, particularly customers.

For example, people have a certain image they expect from developers, as opposed to salespeople. A smooth-talking development manager whose statements sound like an advertising pitch will not be trusted and will fail to please, because he comes across as glib or even untrustworthy. What customers want to know is what developers are thinking. It will not do to disappoint their expectations. At the same time, one's talk should not sound like a technical paper either, because this would fail to get the meaning across. The question might be considered to be how to effectively translate such technical content, but as I said earlier, that concept is erroneous. I realized that developers must have conviction about what they want to do too, before any technical documentation comes up.

Take wireless, for example. In the early days, notebook PCs did not have a wireless function. It was common sense back then that a network connection required a cable. The wireless idea came up later. At the time, placing the antenna around the LCD was another challenge and this launched a technological drive for smaller antennas. Through trial and error, engineers sought to make antennas measuring as small in millimeters as possible. They also competed to raise the decibel sensitivity in that band as much as possible. Such target indices are definitely important, as starting development work without any target leaves you without a yardstick for determining success or completion. Using such a target lets you obtain real data and make meaningful products.

Upon completion, engineers will come to me and start explaining that they've improved the antenna's performance by three decibels. "Ordinary customers will not be able to understand the meaning of this if you put it this way," I tell the engineers. "You've got to tell them the advantage of this in terms that are real to them, such as "until now, an office of this size required four access points, but we can now achieve the same with just two access points." or "until now, communication was possible only at this speed from a given corner, but now this new speed is achievable."

After I began making them explain things in this way, the developers took to keeping a ThinkPad in something that looked like a baby stroller and wheeling it around the office.

Word had gotten around that "if you're going to Naitoh-san, you can't just explain things in terms of decibels." Showing them the picture of an office, I would ask them to explain how the number of access points could be reduced, or what kind of connection was used until now and how this could be improved on. And I would add that simply getting a connection, or getting a given speed was not enough. It is not easy to achieve smooth switching from one access point to another as the antenna is moved around. Unless smooth switching is achieved, that nearby access point one has gone to the trouble of installing will go unused, as the previous point is not removed and the strength of the electric field used for reception remains poor as a result. To make me understand this and pursue customer value, the developers had begun to try out various things using that "baby stroller." They had gone back to basics.

Starting out from basics led them to consider whether those three decibels were truly meaningful in the first place. If one competes in terms of specifications, even a single decibel has meaning. However, such pursuit may by itself be meaningless if one assumes a basic viewpoint. This is the kind of understanding one can gain from going back to basics.

Those values we call specifications must be explained by translating them into the customer value that can be achieved as a result. However, if you think about it, things should be the other way around: Customer value comes first, and the specifications and numerical targets needed to achieve them come next. I do not think that competition in specifications is a bad thing per se. In the end everything boils down to specifications, so naturally one cannot reject numerical values out of hand. But not knowing what these numerical values mean in terms of customer value creates problems.

Know-how beyond the scope of words (or video)

In the early stages, the engineers devised and implemented various methods to test durability and other product attributes. Seeing this, I suggested that we shoot videos to let customers know what we do and why, and thus we started filming. This got the engineers thinking again.

"Will customers get what it is that we are simulating?"

"I wonder if that will do."

If these videos are actually shown to customers, some of them will have doubt about the suitability of what's being done. Such doubt must be answered too. Gradually, the gap between the needs of customers and what we are doing became clear, and can then be filled in.

If I have achieved anything in this organization, I would say it is to have created a loop in connecting the thinking of our customers and engineers, getting feedback, and running tests.

Engineers are often said to be engaged in wars over specs, in which customers are forgotten. Customers often complain that they don't get the respective merits of various technologies, or that too many functions that they don't actually use or cannot take advantage of are being added.

What are the attributes of a good engineer? It all comes down to being able to think from the standpoint of the customer, and then to develop or create technologies, functions, and products that solve the perceived needs. The best way to know whether you have achieved this is to see if you can explain your product to reporters or customers with the same confidence that inspired you to make it, and whether your audience shows interest and approval. Engineers often explain things with technical equations, out of fear that they will be criticized if they fail, or they make things ambiguous so as not to be understood, because they think that spouting stuff their audience cannot understand will shield them from disapproval. Such escapism should be avoided, along with pursuing only one's own interests at the expense of customer value.

Lately, I find myself rarely giving out such advice. Quite the opposite, seeing our engineers explain things with such fervor, I sometimes worry whether it's really all right to go to such extremes. This is the exact opposite situation to that in the beginning.

I have often been told such things as "Naitoh-san, please let's not release the videos for these tests." It's not just about the videos. For example, we have already revealed quite a few tricks about how we tune keyboard keys. In the beginning, everybody was concerned but recently they've gained confidence in this approach. By telling customers, we get them to understand and generate interest, and yet what we reveal does not get copied.

In fact, why are the keyboards of other companies on the market not being improved more? We are not getting copied nearly as often as we thought we would. I'm convinced that this is because what we put in goes far beyond what is revealed. No matter how much we talk, our competitors are ultimately unable to master the keyboard tuning technology. This doesn't mean that we're intentionally leaving out parts that we consider particularly important. One can explain all one wants about the main focuses, the important points, but there's a limit to what can be explained with words.

Our keyboards have a 2.5-millimeter key stroke. The keys are designed so as to provide force feedback when pressed. The feeling of the keys pushing back is the result of a force that increases along a curve. Too steep a curve will result in a heavy feeling keyboard. A gentle curve will result in a keyboard with a light touch. The next important element is the point at which the key suddenly gives way and drops. The greater the height of this point is, the stronger the click sensation. One might think that this point should therefore be made as high as possible, but making the click occur just as one begins to press the key results in a heavy key touch, so designers will delay the click. However, if the click is delayed too much, the entire 2.5-millimeter travel distance will get used first, so the key will strike bottom immediately after it gives and drops, causing an unpleasant sensation. The free drop of the key serves as a signal to the finger not to apply any more force. It is important to design some distance so that the finger does not immediately hit bottom if it travels too far down beyond the click, so as to protect the customer's finger joints from excessive impact.

The above is an example of how we can explain our accumulated know-how in an easy-to-understand manner as needed. It illustrates our capacity for explanation as engineers. To have our products understood and accepted, we need to explain clearly what it is we are doing, what we are offering the customer in terms of convenience, and what we are trying to accomplish.

But if you think that you can reproduce the tactile feel of the ThinkPad's keyboard just by listening to our explanations, you will find that this is impossible.

Tools for professionals that change work styles

What should the ThinkPad be? The answer is "a tool for professionals." I talked earlier about commodities, and what we are aiming for is a tool to accomplish work that does not become commoditized, in other words, professional work. What's important is to produce an item that increases the productivity of businesspeople and makes them more competitive.

We are careful to avoid mere spec wars, and superficial numbers are not so important to us. Of course, we insist on those functions that are required of portable PCs, such as a light weight, a thin profile, and a long battery life, but we think that we should not focus on those numbers alone. A fixation on numbers will always cause one to fall into a spec war, which entails two major risks. The first is the high risk of, at some point, getting caught in competition that ignores the customer. The other is the strong possibility of falling into obsessiveness, resulting in biases and an unbalanced product.

For example, even if you succeed in reducing noise by 10 percent compared with the baseline, this won't get across to customers, because they can't actually hear the difference. The value to the customer will be close to zero unless the noise value is at the very least halved, or even brought near zero. If you compete in terms of achieving a difference of 10 percent here and 12 percent there, such competition will be meaningless. Because the real value to the customer lies beyond these levels.

The pursuit of true value rather than mere numbers in a tool for professionals leads to the transformation of work styles.

Traditionally, hardworking people have been admired as a work ethic for the Japanese. Doing overtime was a virtue and workers going home past midnight were symbols of this system. How did this come about?

Let's take for example Mr. A, who while doing the same job as Mr. B, finishes work at 4:30 p.m. and then catches a movie on his way home. Mr. B on the other hand works on until 1 a.m. and gets home in the wee hours. In such a case, the worker most cherished by the company and his superiors is, without question, the latter.

In Japanese society, the harvest produced by the group gets distributed to the members of the group, based mainly on the number of hours worked by each member. If Mr. B worked longer, he gets a larger share.

This approach is wrong, in my opinion, because the productivity of Mr. B, who did the same amount of work, is unmistakably lower. When working longer hours is valued, people stop caring about productivity and lose international competitiveness. People who value productivity want to go home early and thus demand speed from their computer. As I said earlier, it is annoying when a machine makes you wait 10 or 15 seconds for web pages to load.

Productivity creates breathing room. The extra time can then be used for leisure or to get other work done. If Japanese society does not start treating this as a virtue, Japan's competitiveness is bound to decline further.

Taking a long time to do things is not a virtue in my book. The thinking that, "If I work many hours, I will contribute much to the company" won't do. Accomplishments should be measured not in terms of time spent, but in terms of quality. We always think in terms of what PCs can do to this end.

I believe that the essence of the ThinkPad is productivity. In other words, we always aspire to make the ThinkPad more productive.

PCs and ThinkPads in particular, are tools for raising the work competitiveness of customers (users). What we value over all else is offering hard-to-break machines that can be used comfortably and without stress, even for many hours, anytime and anywhere, and are equipped with security and wireless. The ThinkPad, being a notebook PC and thus portable, must be usable regardless of the location. In other words, users must be able to use their time effectively. And since they can work while on the move, they are able to increase their free time too. That is the productivity that is demanded of the ThinkPad.

When I say "a tool for professionals", people sometimes misunderstand this to mean a machine that is hard to use except for select businesspersons who are highly IT literate. Far from it, when I use the word "professional", I always mean those who are professional about their work. I believe that the ThinkPad must be the most easy-to-use, and the most user-friendly PC for all users.

Insisting on notebook PC security to change the Japanese work style

The Japanese are said to be among the world's most industrious people and workaholics, but is that really so? Compared with the past, the Japanese have changed a lot in some ways, but more than that, European/American and Japanese businesspeople have different work styles to begin with and this difference, in my opinion, accounts for why Japanese appear so industrious.

The Japanese certainly work hard at the company. As I said before, people who work long hours are highly praised and thus overtime is readily accepted. However, most people's work style does not include doing work away from the company. People rarely take work home, and doing work while on the move is definitely uncommon. On the other hand, it is not unusual for European and American businesspeople, even if they go to work early and return home in the evening, to resume their work in their study after dinner with their family.

Japanese productivity was said to be among the highest in the world. However, this was at a time when information technology was not yet widespread. Work could only be done at the company, so spending long hours at the company appeared to raise productivity. But today, with advances in information technology, individual businesspeople are sure to increase their productivity by adopting a work style that does not bind them to the physical location of the company. This is exactly the work style we propose with the ThinkPad. We are convinced that the work style of the Japanese will gradually change too.

The transformation of work style requires, more than anything, a solid wireless communication environment and strong security. Since the age of IBM, we have been committed to these two aspects for the ThinkPad, and we have been working on providing a high level of security that does not require one to be aware of encryption keys and so on.

However, most Japanese companies currently restrict taking PCs out of the office, out of concern for data leaks or the machine getting lost. People fail to consider how to strengthen security so that workers can take out their PCs and work anytime and anywhere they want. The Japanese solution is not to take out PCs so no liabilities arise and everybody feels better. As a result, putting in long hours at the company continues to be perceived a virtue, and employees are unable to get any work done once they set foot outside the company. I believe that this is one of the reasons why people continue to operate as company drones. And so, I have even come to regard so-called "security issues" as no more than an excuse.

Let's consider security some more. Passwords are most important when it comes to protecting important data on a PC.

However, many passwords can be hacked with a little guesswork if you know the user's name, birthdate, and (in Japan, at least) blood type. This is because many people still set their password as a combination of these items. Automatic generation is a great idea, but even if a sixty-four digit password is automatically generated, the user himself could not possibly memorize it. Alternatively, three-stage authentication that uses a startup password, a hard disk drive password, and a Windows login password could be effective, but this too would be extremely troublesome for users.

Finger sensors and fingerprint authentication systems work well in this regard. Even multiple difficult-to-remember passwords can easily be authenticated and managed with just one fingertip. There is no need to memorize complicated passwords; just registering one's fingerprint once is all that's required. However, finger sensors have failed to spread in use.

As a result, all too often we see cartoonish situations of a security manager's office with Post-its with employee passwords written on them sticking everywhere. Or we hear a not so funny story of someone who forgets his own too-robust password and can't ever use his PC again.

To address this problem, we researched for many years a system to centrally and securely manage hardware passwords. For example, in the case of a small business with 10 employees, one manager can set and assign a user password and a supervisor password to every employee. However, this is not so easy in the case of machines numbering thousands upon thousands. Therefore, for large companies, we started offering a system for managing passwords centrally, featuring a hardware-based encryption engine implemented on the hard disk drive, which performs the encryption and decryption. Even so, few customers adopted this system, suggesting that the attitude that not taking PCs outside the company is the best approach remains widespread.

I decided that I wanted to change this state of affairs because otherwise the characteristics of mobile PCs, which are specifically designed to be usable anywhere, could not be put to their best use.

I've always held the view that the current state of affairs, in which the value of labor is measured in hours and businesspeople become part of the company, need to be changed by transforming the way people think about personnel administration and management. When people they work long hours and leave the company at a late hour, they feel that they've worked hard the whole day and put in a lot of effort. But there's more. Even if an employee completes all his work for that day earlier than the rest, he will find it difficult to be the only one to go home when the others around him can't. And while young people today appear not to feel bound by such corporate "common sense," I feel that this is an issue slightly different from that of productivity and so forth.

Japan has come to a juncture where it needs once more to confidently pull itself up by its own bootstraps. There are things we Japanese need to change. And we want to support such efforts with our mobile PCs.

Marketing myopia gets in the way of explaining the potential of PCs

Are you familiar with Theodore Levitt's "Marketing Myopia"? In that paper published in 1960, Levitt explained that the occupation one finds himself in is a limited construct, specific to that day and age. He argued that the railroad industry declined because the railroad companies forgot the needs of customers (passenger and freight transportation) and clung to the means of transport that is railroads, which did not amount to more than one among many possible solutions. Levitt teaches that all companies need to review their own existential value (which is the value for customers) and redefine their business during periods of transition.

The mission of a manager is not to produce goods, but to offer value that creates customers, Levitt tells us. This is a call to break away from the so-called "what we do," although this is certainly not easy. "Creative destruction" is needed.

Our own view of things is undeniably PC-centric. However, PCs are recognized as tools for raising the productivity of customers (users). The value of a PC depends greatly on how it's used. For instance, even if one is fixated on PCs as products, I think it's possible to avoid falling prey to marketing myopia by being aware of what people use PCs to achieve. For this very reason, when adding a function such as stylus input, seeking to generate interest by saying "Isn't this great?" or "Isn't this neat?" is ineffective. What's needed is a thorough explanation of what can be achieved by using this function and seeking to establish with users the value of the new function. If this can be achieved, even a PC of similar appearance to all others can be transformed into a machine with a different value altogether.

Why the Yamato lab has been able to pass along its culture

Organizations are said to find it increasingly difficult to maintain their original enthusiasm and sense of purpose as they grow bigger. As time passes, new people join and old-timers leave. The organization changes and somewhere along the line this process accelerates. Taking the case of a single company, as business expands, hiring increases at some stage from just a few employees to many employees. And the generally accepted view is that transmission of the organization's culture, its DNA, will then be endangered unless this is handled exceptionally well.

Considering this, I believe that the Yamato lab has done exceedingly well in transmitting its DNA. What I have sought to transmit has sunk in deep, and we have yet to experience a crisis. Amid major changes, including a new owner and even a new nationality, the Yamato lab has become even more cohesive and have come all this way without losing its focus.

Of course, the Yamato lab is just one division, one organization within the company, but I believe that in a way, it is somewhat like a small/medium-sized company that thrives and has boosted its presence under the umbrella of a major corporation. Even people outside the company can recognize this.

We just rushed ahead like mad. Why did things turn out as well as they did? I believe that one factor was that the size of the organization was just right. I don't think that we would have had the same outcome had we been an organization that takes in 300 new employees each year. Although we have been on a growth trend since transferring over to Lenovo, Yamato lab's size, including permanent and contract employees, has remained that of a small/medium-sized company.

Another factor is that the Yamato lab has been pursuing a single product, a single brand, all this time, which may be something of an oddity among companies. The fact that our brand power has not declined has contributed more than anything else to our success. This is evident by the fact that out of 10 people we hire, eight will profess absolute love for the ThinkPad. In this respect, it's the same as it ever was. Naturally, if 100 percent of our new hires were ThinkPad fans, we'd see our growth slow, so we also hire total neophytes to bring in new ideas. But the fact that a surprising number of our applicants are ThinkPad fans is, I believe, the key to maintaining our unifying force and sense of direction.

Under IBM, hiring would be done at once for the entire company, so each year we'd get about 300 new employees. Employee allocations, including who would join the ThinkPad team, were not decided beforehand. After we transferred over to Lenovo, things were clearly different in this regard.

At Lenovo, I myself participated in the final interviews and I would directly ask candidates "What do you want to do?" and "What is it that you can do?" So they knew that, if they got hired, they would get to work on the ThinkPad. Actually, it may be more like the applicants wished to apply because they knew that they'd get to make ThinkPads if they were hired. We have an advantage, in a sense, in that we are in control of hiring, and virtually all of our job candidates know about the ThinkPad. As I mentioned before, it's a fact that hardcore ThinkPad fans make up the majority of our candidates.

Looking back, I focused on interviews as part of an all-out quest to select developers in 2005, when we transferred over to Lenovo. This is not to say that we slacked off in this regard at IBM, but because several interviewers took turns interviewing a total of about 300 people, we took care to conduct interviews from a general standpoint.

From 2005, things changed. I would face candidates asking, "If this person joins us, what will he/she do for us?" That may be exactly the way the manager of a small/medium-sized company feels (although I haven't had that experience). At any rate, I was able to face candidates in quite an in-depth manner. Nowadays, my position has changed and I no longer conduct job interviews. I've passed that baton to the next generation.

There is something I've strongly felt while conducting interviews from 2005 to 2010.

Until then, I think that I myself held the view, almost a cliché actually, that starts with "young people nowadays..." and is completed by "are passive and lack ambition" or some such. However, when I faced them in earnest in interviews, I often felt that young people were more serious than in my own student days. The intensity they displayed in their job search made me realize how nonchalantly I had been living, somehow getting admitted to a university and getting hired by the company.

Not only that, they also know exactly what they want to do and have already honed the skills and learned the technology for this purpose. As a group, they may not have worked their way through college to the same extent as we did in the past, but several among them have done their best to make a living, so as not to be a burden to their parents. And thus I have come to feel a lot of admiration for today's young people, so much so that I am even a little ashamed myself.

I was in charge of the final interviews, and the more I realized how they'd risen to that level by jostling past hundreds of rivals, the more I felt the drive of today's youth. Naturally, there hasn't been a single year in which I thought, "I have no choice but to make do with this crop of recruits." And it's not like only the hired ones seem great; all the candidates strike me as having come up the ranks of excellence.

There is no more virtuous cycle than the one we enjoy now, with talent that, though small in number, is of superb quality. They are dedicated and attached to the ThinkPad, and enter our organization bringing in new ideas. Our DNA stands protected and our organizational culture is perpetuated as a result.

I feel also that what I have been teaching over the years has become deeply rooted in the organization and is being passed along. I can't remember asking junior staff, "How would you explain this to customers?" for several years now. It just isn't necessary. In repeating this, I may come across as over the top, but it's true.

Though this may sound a bit strong, this too is culture transmission. In the early stages, I avail myself of various opportunities to directly teach our new recruits. Before long, before I can communicate something, somebody will take action ahead of me. Like, "If you say this, Naitoh-san will tell you so-and-so." Gradually, that talk and "Naitoh" disappears from the equation. Eventually this becomes a piece of tacit knowledge. And thus, the organization's culture gets transmitted. Lenovo's culture and traditions will get passed along forever. Who said this or that first is irrelevant. In fact, somewhere along the line, the knowledge becomes part of the accepted lore. And that is fine. Seeing people (mentors and seniors) and emulating them is the best approach.

Caring that protects engineers from nervous breakdowns—the importance of management that seeks to understand people

Engineers are often said to lack cooperation and social skills, but I beg to differ.

When I was a student, and also around the time I entered the company, I was able to spend my days without having to deal with people I didn't like. Students can take what they like and leave what they dislike in their environment. This allows them to build walls around them. They don't depend on others, besides their parents, for money. Actually, it is because they pay money to go to school that they can enjoy this freedom.

However, once they become working people, they have to belong to an environment that contains a number of things that they cannot choose, in exchange for a salary. Such people may wind up in an unpleasant environment not to their liking. Anyone in such a situation would understandably feel mental pressure, but it is my feeling that engineers in general may be more susceptible. Leaders should provide care to their underlings in this regard.

When giving advice to new employees, there is always something, almost an instruction, that I tell them at the end.

I say to them, "If you experience any hardship, please be sure to come to me. Do not worry about it on your own. Before doing anything regrettable or rash, do come see me. I promise it will get resolved." I would tell them this every time. "Do not refrain from telling me and break down on your own."

Of course, I'm not a specialist in this field. But not a stranger to such feelings myself, I understand how people under mental pressure feel. Having found ways to get over such feelings, I probably can help anyone who comes to me with a problem, because I understand what is bothering that person. I myself didn't have an easy time overcoming such challenges. And those situations that I was able to sort out easily would not be of reference for them. I've had my own struggles, I've gone through my own rough patches, and honestly, I also experienced pretty difficult situations, so I am confident that I can hear them out, get a solid grasp of their situation, and give them advice.

I can't give them pointed advice like, "This method will work in your case." However, one thing I understand is that a human being weakened under mental pressure and beginning to break down thinks "I'm the only one to feel so wretched." But this is a mistake—whether happy or not, everybody has such weaknesses.

For example, a new employee looking at me might feel that "this person's been around; he's been chattering away like that for a long time, he's scared of nothing." However, that too is a mistake. I for one used to be not able to speak in front of people. However, as I rose in position, I was expected to speak in various situations. On occasion, I had to give speeches to audiences of dozens or even hundreds of people. At such times, I couldn't help but feel despondent from the night before. There were other stressful things on top of that, to the point that I'd go to the doctor and ask for something to calm me down. Back then, if you consulted a doctor about such problems, he would tell you to first get an appointment with a counselor. When I actually went to see a counselor, I was asked in detail about all kinds of things. After enduring this about three separate times, I was able to get some medication, but I didn't take it in the end. However, I kept it in my pocket as it made me feel safe.

When I tell people true stories like that, almost all of them leave feeling somewhat better.

I guess realizing they're not the only one gives them some relief. Everybody is convinced that they're the only one to be weak, that they're the only one who can't cope, and this gets them down even more. I've been there myself. But when you realize that almost all people are the same, you start believing that you too will be able to get over it.

One more thing: among the many desires of humans is a hunger for recognition. This is the wish to be recognized, to be understood, by others. It may be an exaggeration, but I hear that in many cases, people lose the will to go on when this hunger for recognition dries up due to lack of acknowledgment. Letting such people speak their hearts and giving them interviews are effective ways to address this hunger for recognition. This is because, when heard, a person feels understood. In any case, I believe that one should not turn people away, and that being attentive, showing concern and giving recognition are the best medicine.

ThinkPad fans come together and stamp their passion into Yamato lab's DNA

At the risk of being misunderstood, I feel that what I worked so hard for until now has been for the sake of my own team.

Management courses often feature a test that shows one's leadership type using a radar chart. Some types of leadership are, for example, "authoritatively giving orders," "democratically listening to other people's opinions," "coaching one's subordinates," and "skillfully giving instructions." None of these items is, per se, correct. They are to be used according to the persons to be led. Therefore, if one were to define the correct answer, it would be that answer which gives high scores for all items. We can't use characteristics we lack, but we can use those we have. The rest consists in developing an eye for assessing people and situations.

Among such items, there is one item (type) that I consciously try not to use. That is "treat people in a familiar manner."

For example, remembering the birthday of a junior's child and saying "It's so-and-so's birthday today, isn't it, congratulations!" or "How old is he now?" or remembering his wife's name and saying "Your wife, so-and-so's her name, right? How is she?" I can't help but feel that it's sneaky to meddle like this. Therefore, when I deal with people at work and try to understand them, I am careful to avoid mentioning their family whenever this is possible.

That being said, I myself may be quite the family man. I consciously try not to know about the families of my coworkers, but to me, all the developers at the Yamato lab are family. I don't know whether this is a good or a bad thing, but looking at them all, I cannot help but feel that they are like my family.

Businesspeople work hard. When asked what sustains them, people may answer "It's my child's smile," but all the workers at the Yamato lab are so busy with work they hardly get to spend time at home. As the result of everybody's hard work, the products we have all created together are highly recognized, and we and the company are praised. I think that having our existence acknowledged in such manner has been and will continue to be our greatest payback. Everybody at the Yamato lab is family. Whether they like it or not, they become family.

As I mentioned, even after our transfer over to Lenovo, most people wishing to enter the company have been ThinkPad fans. This has stayed the same since the IBM days. While we hire for the entire company, those who come work at the Yamato lab have all been ThinkPad devotees. We've thus gathered together people very eager to develop ThinkPads. No one got here by chance.

The Yamato lab holds an event that awards a title to people who have demonstrated technological prowess. The people who are selected for that honor get to make a short speech in front of everybody. A person who was selected recently told us the following:

"I'd wanted to work on the ThinkPad for a long time and put in a request with a manager a good number of years ago, but he would not assign me no matter what." And so I said to him "If I kneel to you, will you accept?" and I actually knelt down on the ground. Three months later, I got assigned and so was able to come here. That is why I'm working hard."

This may sound strange, but this episode speaks to a lot of our members, because we all hold that "ThinkPad = Myself." That's the extent to which we are committed to this product, to this brand. And therefore, they themselves, and me looking at them, feel that we are a team, a family.

This unifying force is something special, and I believe it is the source of the Yamato lab's strength. It is the DNA of the Yamato lab, not that of IBM and not that of Lenovo, which is getting passed along. Explaining that DNA in a word or two might be difficult.

One manager might for example put emphasis on the fact that, "We give engineers the chance to enjoy their own sense of accomplishment." The reason being that when one goes on overseas business trips, one gets to see that ThinkPads are being used all over the world. This makes one feel extremely happy.

For example, we may learn while watching TV that our products are being used in a high-profile leading-edge enterprise. If this is the sort of enterprise that is a driving force in today's world, we may really feel that the products we are making are helping speed up the pace of change in the world. Along with making engineers feel truly blessed they're in this profession, this reinforces in them the conviction that compromises are not acceptable. Such happiness contributes to embedding our DNA even more deeply.

I feel that we have fostered the confidence that, "If you ask Yamato, they will not fail to deliver." Our long string of accomplishments bears testimony to this. We've always walked the talk and our history shows that we make good on our promises. And there too lives Yamato's DNA.

When I asked Yamato's engineers to define Yamato's DNA, I received the following responses.

"If one were to give reasons why things can't be done, the list could go on and on. One can find ways to justify just about anything. But the Yamato lab will never do this. I don't know why, but we just don't run away from things. This is why I think it's imprinted in our DNA."

"This organization does not make excuses. We seek solutions or alternatives. And by tradition we all get working on this together. What's more, we don't just find one solution, we also plan for contingencies."

"Inexperienced people can't even guess what might occur. Knowing what might occur and making preparations for contingencies is where experience comes in. The kind of experience acquired not by individuals, but by the organization over the course of its long history."

The lessons learned by the organization are embedded in its DNA. And it all becomes part of our store of unattributed knowledge.

Chapter 3 From IBM to Lenovo—Constant Quality and Continuous Evolution

Transfer to Lenovo—Taking the ThinkPad logo with us

On December 8, 2004, a strategic alliance between IBM and Lenovo that included the acquisition of IBM's personal computer division by Lenovo was announced. This acquisition would include the PC division and its products and brands, such as ThinkPad and NetVista, and would entail the transfer of nearly all PC development engineers to Lenovo Japan.

At the time, some in the Japanese press viewed this acquisition negatively, but I and the engineers of the Yamato lab, by and large, took this as a positive development. I said at one press conference, "Yamato lab engineers do not want to make IBM PCs. We want to make ThinkPads. We view ThinkPads as a part of ourselves." This is the truth. And in that respect, nothing changed.

Naturally, this announcement came as a shock to most of our engineers. Everyone had chosen IBM as the company they wanted to join. All were fans of the ThinkPad, but they had joined IBM because they liked IBM as a company. While some may first have learned about this acquisition from the newspapers or other media, in all likelihood no one would just casually say "Oh, is that so?" on hearing the company had been acquired.

At the time, I had left to start my new post in the U.S. I had been made an IBM fellow in 2001. Fellows are specialists who are named by IBM's chairman in recognition for their contributions to IBM's technologies and business. This may sound presumptuous, but at the time there were only 52 fellows out of 320,000 IBM employees. What's more, I was only the third Japanese person to have been named a fellow. Yutaka Tsukada, the second Japanese fellow, was a circuit board specialist at the Yasu Plant and later became a director of IBM Japan. The first Japanese fellow was none other than Leona Esaki. Both of these men were out-and-out technology specialists. As a systems developer, I was the odd man out. Having been thus honored, I naturally felt a bond with the company. And from 2003, I'd been posted to the U.S., in North Carolina, as Vice President of the Personal System Division and Chief Technology Officer (CTO). Thus I was already removed from the position of representative of the Yamato lab.

That announcement of the acquisition of IBM's PC division by Lenovo came when I'd been on my new post a little over one year. I immediately flew back to Japan to explain the situation to everyone in the lab. I talked about many things, and every single face I saw looked worried. But I knew that we could not resist the winds of change. Prior to the Lenovo deal, the LCD group had been bought off by another company, the hard disk group had transferred to Hitachi, and the silicon development group had moved to Epson. Further, the group that designed circuit boards and substrates went to Kyocera. This was the period during which IBM Japan withdrew from hardware technology development. The server business remained, but PCs were the last important part, so to speak.

And so I told them, "This is a river that will have to be crossed sooner or later. This here is our best bridge."

I don't know how many people were convinced, but I spoke from the heart.

I also told them, "The IBM logo has been around since way before we all got here. But the ThinkPad logo we created ourselves. We can't take the IBM logo with us, but the ThinkPad logo is ours. So what are you unhappy about?" I don't think that everybody suddenly came around on hearing these words, but I believe chewing on them calmed them down. As a result, I think that their affinity toward the ThinkPad logo grew even more and, in a positive sense, their sense of ownership deepened.

Unfortunately, there were also those who could not accept the change, no matter what. These members left the Yamato lab; I could not stop them, as I thought it could not be helped.

In the end, I stayed in Japan for a couple of months and returned to the U.S. once at the end of February, to wind up unfinished business and move out of my house. Then in May, I went back to Japan as leader of the Yamato lab. This time, I was starting out as a Lenovo member.

By that time, all the engineers were positive. And thus we got underway with a renewed sense of conviction.

That this bridge was our best choice was no lie. The worst M&As are those that involve the acquisition of a company that is exactly the same as the purchaser. In such cases, restructuring is the next inevitable step to eliminate redundancies. However, in Lenovo's case, there were no such redundancies. Our differences were clear-cut: we had a global market versus their domestic Chinese one, and we served the commercial market versus their consumer market. Few acquisition plays have such a perfect complementary relationship, and thus I thought that this was the best possible bridge.

As I mentioned previously, several members of the team decided to quit, but we did not lay anyone off against their will, as each and every person was a valuable ally.

PCs become a core business—market expansion after biding our time for three long years

The Yamato lab is the only place where ThinkPads are developed. This has always been so, whether at IBM or at Lenovo. But there is one more reason why the engineers, including me, took our acquisition positively.

It took a while before I could be sure of that, but I thought that at Lenovo, we might be able to give freer rein to our power as engineers than at IBM. I thought that we'd be able to expand into fields that had not been addressed to that point by IBM, and that we might be able to take on new challenges.

IBM is a giant IT company with operations centered on mainframes, and the Yamato lab was a mere division. Lenovo, on the other hand, while also being a global company, is a dedicated PC manufacturer and so its PC division is positioned differently.

Within the entirety of IBM's business, regardless of how well the PC division did, and even if it had poor results, the degree of influence this would have on IBM as a whole was not that great. Regardless of how well ThinkPads sold, it had little effect on IBM's share price. In Lenovo's case, however, the situation was completely different. The ThinkPad's business performance would surely affect the company's share values, for it was one of the company's core businesses. And in fact, the R&D budget for PC development increased greatly once we transferred to Lenovo. Given its centrality, the PC division could stand its ground better at Lenovo than at IBM. It was great knowing that my business was at the heart of the company, and this further increased my sense of drive.

If people fully grasp this and realize that they hold the key to the growth of their company, their sense of ownership increases, as does their motivation.

One concern was the worry expressed by some of our customers that now that we were under Lenovo, the ThinkPad might change. I addressed this at a press conference, among other occasions, emphasizing that "The ThinkPad will not change in any way. The foundation we have built until now will stay in place. Therefore, worries that the ThinkPad will become a different product are groundless. Users of future ThinkPads will continue to be able to enjoy the same high-grade experience they've come to love."

This is the kind of message I would keep on broadcasting at the time, because some people voiced the view that we might launch completely different ThinkPads following our acquisition by Lenovo. This was not an expression of anticipation, but of concern. To convince such persons that this would not happen, I decided not to change anything for three years, and I held true to that promise.

And about the time the three years were up, I began telling people that we'd aim to change the ThinkPad. This did not mean that we would abandon what we had developed for the ThinkPad. I wanted to leave its essence unchanged while broadening and expanding the customer value we offered. This is the lot of the engineer, always wanting to take on new challenges. We don't know any other way to live.

In terms of ThinkPad series, we retained the A, X, T and R series started under IBM.

The A Series, which was the standard model, was later renamed the L Series, a change sought by the marketing division that did not reflect any engineering modifications. The SL Series of entry-level machines was also added. The X and T series, which consisted of "traveler," or ultraportable, machines, were positioned as premium series in relation to the standard models. We also had the W Series, which stood for workstations. Then three years later, the Edge Series was introduced, as was the X Series tablet.

I believed that we had to broaden our market, because Lenovo was still a young company and we were operating on a strategy of "protect & attack" as we aimed for growth. At the time, the corporate market, which was the main zone for the ThinkPad since the IBM days, was said to be mature, meaning that strong growth could not be expected. If that were the case, I thought, continuing to serve only this specialized market would put our lab in jeopardy. I knew that we'd be unable to survive unless we kept up with Lenovo's growth and even surpassed it to become the lab pulling the company up, and to that end, we had to broaden the ThinkPad's market.

Timing the launch of the Edge—a ThinkPad for small business

What we created was the Edge Series of lower cost machines intended for use by a broader array of users than just large corporations. This in itself was not a mistake, but the view that the corporate market was a mature, low-growth market was in error. The corporate market went on to grow strongly, as it does to this day.

This was not our first attempt to introduce a low-priced ThinkPad, but we had not done it right the first time. As our budget for that task was limited, we thought that we'd put out a low-priced product just by making some minor changes, and ended up economizing too much in terms of time and labor. The problem was that customers could not tell the difference, and people would ask "Why such a big price difference?" If we sold a new low-cost version featuring the same design and color, but a slightly different name, for 100,000 yen or so, compared with 300,000 yen, in today's equivalent, that a ThinkPad would sell for in those days, it would only be natural for existing customers to feel betrayed, and we'd immediately get complaints. This is why I opted not to change the ThinkPad and instead establish a new zone within the ThinkPad family.

Introducing a new product that would serve as the cornerstone of this new zone meant not changing existing ThinkPads and thereby preserving that sacred domain. It is fair to say that we developed a new area so as not to compromise the existing relationship with our customers.

We sought to have a greater number of customers discover and use the ThinkPad's original features, its ease of use and its reliability, all developed as a total system. Our first answer was the Edge.

This was a new product geared toward developing the small/medium-sized company segment, rather than large corporations. The target market, however, was more than just Japanese small/medium-sized companies, so the term "small business" might more closely express our intended meaning.

Fortunately, this being Lenovo, a company that takes on one new challenge after the next, we were able to get the required funding. Of course, we engineers did our part. Although we would create twice the number of products, we could not very well use up twice the number of people and development expenses. Thus we endeavored each day to come up with ways to expand our development portfolio by establishing more efficient methods.

Although the plan was only to expand the breadth of our offerings, leaving the ThinkPad unchanged, we knew that making this announcement might cause suspicion and turmoil in the market. People might think "I just knew they'd change under Lenovo."

For that reason, as reassurance that things would not change, we did not launch new initiatives for about three years. To be frank, I would have liked to get started right away. As a business chance, the timing was not bad. Still, protecting the brand and trust we'd built up and treating our customers with consideration were more important than taking on new challenges. Thus we bided our time for about three years.

Soon after we started under the new system, we developed the machine called Lenovo 3000 and introduced it to the market. However, we did not use the ThinkPad name and the machine did not even feature a TrackPoint. To be honest, it was not that successful. This was a painful lesson—even if we proposed functions that we wanted for the ThinkPad on a different machine, the message might be lost. Production of this product was discontinued after about one year.

Then, the long-awaited Edge was released.

What kinds of functions did the Edge have? What made it different from the ThinkPads released to that point? The basic functions were the same. However, some of the features and specifications of ThinkPads are specifically designed for large companies, and as such were not needed. For example, IT managers may distribute as many as thousands or even 10,000 PCs to end users. Setting passwords and company policies at such time is almost impossible in physical terms. Therefore, all PCs come equipped with a security chip that enables the distribution of policies from LANDesk. There are also chips and functions to lower the total cost of ownership (TCO), an important requirement for large companies. Functions of this sort were the first to be eliminated.

However, this was not enough. Some elements would actually drive up costs owing to design characteristics. Even so, we could not accept any reduction in reliability. The ThinkPad being synonymous with our lives, there were quite a few things we couldn't do while continuing to work under the ThinkPad name. In need of a solution, we looked for ways to drive down costs.

Ensuring full quality in the lower-price zone

The specifications of the Edge were reworked any number of times. For example, for tests to measure durability, we proceeded by trial and error at first to determine how far to lower the standards. By this, I mean how far the existing standards could be relaxed, made less strict. However, I actually thought this to be a meaningless exercise, as this would have meant making compromises such as saying that "even though they are ThinkPads, quality equivalent to 80 percent of our existing standard will be sufficient for low-cost models." This went against the ThinkPad way. And so I called for deliberations in this direction to be stopped.

Instead, we'd stick to testing to the full criteria of the ThinkPad, and improve the points that could be improved in order to clear these criteria. If, after these efforts, there was a parameter that could not be improved unless, for example, high-cost carbon fiber were used, we'd think of an individual solution.

The reason for this decision was that, going back to what I talked about before, when the engineers themselves would be asked at press conferences, "Is this product built to the same standards as the ThinkPad," they'd likely be unwilling to answer "No, they're made to 80 percent of the ThinkPad's standard." Could we proudly stand our ground if asked "Why just eighty percent? Can this product still be called a ThinkPad?" We decided among ourselves that producing such products would be no good.

Our approach was successful. The resulting products were not entirely the same as existing ThinkPads. They were a little heavier, and to lower costs, slightly weaker materials were used and slightly larger gaps were used in some locations to clear the same standards. And thus the first Edge Series came into being. We still were not satisfied, however, and when we examined the results, we told ourselves that "This should be made thinner. How can we achieve that?" and we tried again and further refined the design.

In other words, in making the first model, we did not think in terms of lowering the specifications for a lower price, but instead sacrificed lightness and thinness to some extent in a very tight contest. And when the first model change came around, we carried out development telling ourselves that "We've come this far, let's work to restore the parts that were sacrificed to the original specifications."

We went on to gradually set the bar higher. At first, we ensured quality through the use of carbon fiber. But this resulted in higher product prices. Next, we compromised on weight and thickness to lower prices. In this way, we maintained quality. Next, I called for us to try to achieve weight reductions without using carbon fiber. And we came up with new solutions. For example, we'd get ideas such as "Until now, we thought that we needed a one millimeter gap in this location, but based on our experience and data, a 0.8 millimeter gap should do." We also devised alternatives in case a given idea didn't work out. Through such trial and error, we were able to deliver products that we could confidently call ThinkPads in price zones lower than ever before.

Even so, the traditional ThinkPads and the Edge could not really be said to be exactly the same. The Edge certainly met the standards of the ThinkPad, but the X Series and L Series of ThinkPads, for example, were of a quality that greatly exceeded this standard, showing how generous their specifications were.

The experience of developing the Edge through trial and error by cutting all bridges undeniably allowed the engineers of the Yamato lab to grow a few levels higher.

Costs naturally arise when one uses certain components, or switches to pricier materials to solve some problem. The only way to avoid this is to spend time on solving the problem. However, at present we can't afford either. Higher costs are out of the question, and there's no time either, because we must offer new solutions to customers in shorter cycles than ever before. And yet we can't just work through sleepless nights or soldier on fueled by sheer determination and grit alone. Knowledge is also required. Engineers are constantly improving their skills in the area of how to shorten simulation time, streamline testing, and determine which tools are needed for this purpose.

The efforts of individual persons do not end with these individuals, but contribute to building up the collective assets of the organization, and of the Yamato lab. I believe this growth rate to be high, rising faster than a straight line.

ThinkPad Edge15 Black

Style comes into its own

With the Edge, the ThinkPad entered its fourth generation. The first generation was that of the 753. The second generation was the ATX generation, from 2000 to around 2005. The third generation demonstrated that the ThinkPad would not change under Lenovo. And the fourth generation began with the release of the Edge in 2010. We put a lid on adventurousness for the third generation, but this was the age in which the ThinkPad made new inroads into large companies. It was the period during which the foundation for the next step was strengthened. The market expansion toward small businesses then began with the fourth generation.

Looking back, it might appear as if the third-generation ThinkPads stopped growing, but this was not the case. Despite discussions about sufficient speed having been achieved at the beginning of the 2000s, we worked to further increase the performance of the processors. What impelled us to do so was the fact that with increases in the number of programs, such as anti-virus software, running in the background, higher and higher performance was needed. Even maintaining the same apparent performance actually required raising basic performance quite significantly.

This ties in to the debate on what constitutes performance for users. The third generation was a time during which we sought to further improve basic performance in such areas as graphics and wireless, which is required to boost the productivity of our customers. I trusted that this would enable us to create PCs that disappear from users' awareness, which is our ultimate goal.

Then on to the fourth generation. In the U.S. in particular, the trend referred to as the consumerization of IT is gaining momentum. Various devices such as smart phones and tablets are appearing as part of this trend. The current trend is how to incorporate such devices in business settings. Along with this trend, the questions of whether a product is "modern" or "stylish" are being stressed more than ever.

This is an important factor, particularly for young businesspersons active on the front lines of business. This aspect differs from function, but should also be emphasized in the fourth generation because the user base that is the main target is changing. Of course, the traditional ThinkPads continue to occupy a central position in terms of design, but broadening of the user base, as typified by the Edge, will have to be given more weight in the future.

We also made some lucky miscalculations. Although the Edge is a product designed for small business, it became a huge hit, selling 1 million units in its first year. Hearing its praises, a number of existing customers at large companies are reported to have requested their existing suppliers to "bring us PCs like the Edge."

The situation overseas was even more different. This was born from differences in distribution channels. In Japan, enterprise PCs are basically sold through direct sales by salespersons or through distributors called partners. The ThinkPad is no exception. However, in emerging markets such as China and Russia, enterprises PCs are predominantly sold in stores. When PCs are lined up on store shelves, looks tend to weigh more heavily, and people tend to focus on aspects such as modern and stylish designs.

Incidentally, Lenovo had a product called IdeaPad, a Windows machine for individual consumers. The Yamato lab has not been involved with this product, as this machine was developed by a separate development division of Lenovo. It is ideal for entertainment, offers superb video and music-related functionality, and has a stylish and functional design. It is a low-end machine designed with an emphasis on entertainment.

Of course, there is a sense of rivalry between the two divisions. We target different segments, large corporations and small businesses on the one hand, and individual consumers on the other. However, the distinction between small businesses and individual consumers are becoming blurred. In other words, there are aspects where our respective work is of mutual reference for us.

Moreover, the Chinese market is growing extremely rapidly. There are periods when even a PC such as the ThinkPad sells more in China than in the U.S. From this, we can learn about the trends in emerging countries, as well as about national characteristics, such as the preference for graphics functions to be provided externally rather than internally. Successfully absorbing such information will allow us to increase sales volume.

Another thing is that consumer products such as the IdeaPad require frequent model changes. As a matter of fact, the department in charge of development is developing the next machine on an extremely short time cycle. Such short-cycle development know-how would be of value for the Edge, among the various ThinkPad series. I believe that we should emphasize this aspect in the future.

Can an engineer leaving the frontline turn sadness to motivation?

Shifting away from hardware for a moment, let me talk about the steps in an engineer's career path. A few engineers excel in a particular field and become uber-experts in that area, and deeply investigate it over many years, if not their entire lifetime. However, the majority of engineers, Yamato lab engineers included, have career steps provided for them that take them away from their field at a given stage and gradually turn them into generalists. Both IBM and Lenovo are the same in this regard. Almost all engineers come to this crossroad between the ages of 32 and 35.

Around that time, most companies conduct leadership training for people on track to become assistant managers or managers. Normally, people go to a training camp for three days or so, and one evening is often reserved for talks with executives and seniors. I myself have often been called to such events.

On such occasions, I talk about my own experiences, and I've come to realize that everybody runs into the same difficulty—even when people are told they will be promoted to manager, they feel tremendous sadness at the prospect of leaving their workplace.

"I don't want to become an assistant manager," they say, almost hysterically.

I usually tell such people, "You think that you're very smart, right? But I'll bet you're not three times smarter than other people. You may be twice as smart, but not three times. You can't do the work of three persons." A person might be a genius who does the work of a million by discovering new principles or by inventing new technologies, but such people rarely appear.

"No matter how hard you work, you can only perform the work of two persons. But if you have ten persons under you, you can produce ten person's worth of output. If that's the case, rather than clinging to the work of two people, don't you think that you should choose the work that allows you to produce ten persons' worth of work? You have come to such a juncture."

When they hear this, about half of the engineers wear a resigned expression. In fact, this is the same line that I used to convince myself. I really wanted to go on working as an engineer and at times thought it would have been better. But I suppose this is what the times required—people working on the front lines were of course needed, but the organization wanted even more a person who could organize and lead the engineers. I believe this is why I was tapped.

By the time I left my post, integrated circuits had reached quite a large scale, and the environment had become such that the work I had wanted to do with semiconductors and integrated circuits in the first place was now possible. There were a number of opportunities to personally take on various interesting design challenges, so I only left my post with tremendous regret. I wondered to myself why, just as I was coming into my own as an engineer, I had to take on the job of a master negotiator.

It's true that I would come to be called "Mr. ThinkPad" as we entered the ThinkPad development phase, but this too was just a matter of fate. It's not as if I worked out a plan for us to start making ThinkPads. It was all the result of a chemical reaction that, in addition to the tide of the times, included the designer Richard Sapper, an excellent general manager, and a lineup of experts with various skills. I cannot flatter myself thinking that the ThinkPad came about because of me. Had I not been there, somebody else would surely have successfully brought off this project.

And so, to be honest, being called "Mr. ThinkPad" is a bit embarrassing. However, a benefit of this title is that it gives me opportunities to talk in various locations, in various magazines, as a representative of the Yamato lab, and as a representative of all the people, past and present, who have been involved in the ThinkPad project. In this sense, I think that my position as a representative accounts for about 75 percent of all my responsibilities.

From micro to macromanagement

If I may be allowed to digress a bit, I can say that people don't just worry before becoming managers. After becoming managers, we begin to worry about management style.

At first, new managers all want to give detailed, hand-holding style guidance. Their subordinates are doing what they themselves want to do, but no longer can because they have been promoted. As a result, managers tend to evaluate their subordinates more strictly and they end up giving excessively detailed directions as they try to resist the temptation to give a hand at every turn. Such behavior on the part of leaders is not something to be proud of. Out of frustration, some managers will shout, "That's no good!" and take a job away from the person doing it. Management that hands down detailed directions in this manner is called micromanagement.

This is a never-ending challenge. Managers must evolve from such micromanagement to a macromanagement approach that optimizes resources while providing work directions and being considerate to the entire team. While all managers understand this, this is a barrier that is not easily breached. Moreover, it's not a matter of selecting just one or the other of these management styles.

When in a local skirmish, machine gun bullets come flying in from the opposite side, soldiers need directions from their commander. Surely no responsible commander, in such a situation, would tell his troop "I'm leaving you on your own" and take away the ladder, cutting off their retreat. However, in the case of a major engagement, if everybody waited for detailed instructions, it would become extremely difficult for 500 or 1000 soldiers to operate smoothly. At such times, micromanagement is definitely unworkable. Yet in the front line of business, it is not easy to determine where the local picture ends and the big picture begins. Many questions asked during training actually concern this topic. Everybody experiences the same difficulties. Unfortunately, there are no easy answers.

Amidst all this, the next important issue is the formation of successors. I committed the same mistake all along for a number of years. I thought that cultivating my own successors meant creating lots of copies of myself. Of course, this is wrong. Making copies of oneself isn't easy in the first place, but even if one were able to do so, one would not be able to develop people of the talent to surpass the original. So it's not a good idea. Others do not necessarily excel where one excels, and personalities differ too. People's natural styles vary as well. When you see that a person has skills you yourself do not, you should recognize this and coach that person accordingly.

Servant leadership is well suited for macromanagement. It consists in not stepping forward oneself but instead providing the right environment and gently guiding one's subordinates and motivating them. It's about allowing one's juniors to learn and grow on their own and sparing no efforts to provide an environment that is conducive to this. Under such servant leadership, you cannot just create copies of yourself. A true servant leader is someone who makes the most of a person's individuality and helps that person make a commitment and grow.

I myself work hard every day to become such a leader. To tell the truth, I do not think that I am suited to be a leader. At least I do not have the qualities of a natural born leader. This is why I experienced many difficulties, and I still have to work hard in this area even now. If there is a point that I can take pride in, I guess it could be the fact that these experiences have enabled me to understand the struggles and weaknesses of others. I am able to teach others how to push through their challenges by talking about my own experiences. Still, I don't know whether I am really doing well in this regard. I would be in the dark without feedback from others, as it is difficult for me to judge this on my own. And there is the matter of position. It appears that my subordinates find it difficult to give me feedback, whether good or bad.

And yet, I've worked to find way to encourage feedback. For example, I set up a database based on a system similar to the complaints boxes that were used in Japan in the Edo era. This database protects the identity of submitters by hiding their IDs. The potential submitters are all IT specialists, but I made doubly sure that even they could not find out posters' IDs. Even so, when I tell them to "go ahead and post," nobody does because they are all convinced their identities will be found out.

I also make sure to collect feedback during general meetings. Since the Notes database retains submitters' ID by default, we initially used a format that required registration. As participation was weak, we switched to an anonymous format, believing that the registration requirement turned people off. But the result was even lower participation. Thinking that this might on the contrary have sapped the motivation of people to make submissions, we switched to a format where the ID of a person making a submission is pre-entered, and giving the submitter the option to opt out. Even so, few submissions came in, and the submissions we did receive were mostly the type of things that would have been better said out loud on the spot, such as "The sound level of the microphone is set too low." Of course, there were also frank opinions among the lot, but we didn't receive direct views such as "I believe that your way of doing things is not right" or "You are wrong."

This is a sad situation, but I guess it can't be helped. Leaders are said to be lonesome, and I agree with that completely.

Chapter 4 Beyond the Innovation Triangle

The name Yamato has been elevated to a brand

A major project for the Yamato lab took place from the end of 2010 to January of the following year: the lab was moved from its long-time home in Yamato City, which gave it its name, to the Minato Mirai area in Yokohama, also in Kanagawa Prefecture. In January 2011, the Yokohama office, called Yamato Labs, opened.

The Yamato office continued being used even after the transfer of the PC business from IBM to Lenovo, but Lenovo later decided to establish its own original base, and it moved forward with the relocation when the Yamato lab's lease contract came up for renewal.

We gave a lot of consideration to the selection of our next location. The first condition was that it be within a range that would not force employees to move houses. So we went to look at properties from Atsugi to Yokohama. The second and third conditions, or opinions, that we took into account were that it had to be a quiet location suitable for research, and that it had to be a location that would allow employees to stay in touch with the outside world. The Yamato Office location had indeed been quiet, but it felt a little isolated. For a PC company, however, this last condition of staying in touch with the outside world is an important one. Ultimately this led us to select the current Minato Mirai location, taking into account costs and other factors, of course. I think that Minato Mirai is a location that allows us to get a sense of the world.

Next, there was the issue of what to name the lab. Prior to the move, I gathered ten members of the leadership team for a meeting to discuss this. Naturally, everybody felt attached to the name "Yamato." Some even insisted on it. However, when asked whether we should keep the same name even after moving to the new location, the members were approximately equally divided between those who wanted to retain the old name, and those who thought that Yokohama Lab would be fine. At this point, I suggested that this site being a Lenovo asset, we should consult Lenovo management. The conclusion they arrived at was that the name would continue to be "Yamato Development Laboratory."

The main factors behind this decision were the opinions of our customers and the sales teams dealing with customers, as well as the opinions of our partner companies. It turned out that the European sales teams in particular had been describing our offerings as "new products developed by the Yamato lab," without using the Lenovo name. The ThinkPad had become a "Yamato brand" rather than an IBM or a Lenovo brand. Therefore, they argued, suddenly changing that name (= brand) would present problems. Many of our corporate partners also indicated that they'd like us to stay with the Yamato name. In fact, once we informed everybody about our decision to retain Yamato as our name, we received a lot of happy feedback.

For example, a Taiwanese ODM (original design manufacturer, a company that designs and manufactures products branded by another firm) told us that "ever since we started making notebook PCs, we looked up to Yamato. And now we are finally working together. Do you really want to change a name charged with so much significance?"

We were quite businesslike ourselves. Not a few people voiced opinions such as "OK, make it Yokohama already" and "Let's not be bound by the past and go with the future!" But as time passed, we received many opinions from both inside and outside the company that we should retain the "Yamato" name. This made us realize that this name resonated with our customers, the industry, and our partners to a greater degree than we had thought.

The word "Yamato" comes from the city of Yamato. However, this word also happens to signify Japan, and there appear to be people in whose minds the two meanings overlap. I believe that not a few such persons can also be found among journalists. I myself hadn't given this much thought. However, when considering whether to continue using "Yamato," this was one of the reasons lined up in favor of doing so. I remember saying, "by the way, Yamato means Japan," but this was just a justification.

When the Fujisawa Development Laboratory moved to Yamato City, the lab's name was changed to the Yamato Development Laboratory. However, the Yamato lab having given birth to and nurtured the ThinkPad, the ThinkPad brand and Yamato have become one. Moreover, as the result of the entire Yamato lab transferring over to Lenovo from IBM, the "Yamato" name has become a symbol. Thus, the Yamato Office (Yamato Development Laboratory) became the Yokohama Office (Yamato Development Laboratory).

Evidently Yamato had become more of a symbol than I had recognized, it was more than just a place name, it had become a label in its own right.

There is more to the story. Unknown to everybody, I myself felt some scruples. The Yamato lab had not been created and expanded by us alone. It started out as the Yamato lab of IBM, and I felt somewhat hesitant about taking that name with us. To such a point that I imagined with some dread being angrily asked "What makes you think you have the right?!"

And yet I received numerous comments from former Yamato members from IBM's time

through New Year's cards, Facebook, and so on, saying things such as "I'm sad that the lab will disappear. But learning that the name will survive made me happy. It's really great that our name will live on. Thank you!" I was really glad to be told so by IBM people. It may just be that people our decision made angry kept quiet, but we received a lot of unexpected support. The Yamato lab has evolved, and of course it will continue to do so, but basic elements, including its name and identity, have remained unchanged.

The real face of a global company

In January 2011, I was appointed CDO (Chief Development Officer), a post that oversees Lenovo's worldwide development activities, from my previous post as Yamato Development Laboratory Director and Vice President (Lenovo Japan). The directorship of Yamato Development Laboratory was taken on by Soichi Yokota, the Managing Officer who had worked with me on developing the ThinkPad since the IBM days.

Lenovo has three R&D bases. One is the Yamato lab in Yokohama. Another one is the R&D Center in Raleigh, North Carolina, and then there is the R&D Center in Beijing, China. Let me explain a bit about Lenovo as a company. The Lenovo Group, which has headquarters in Raleigh, North Carolina, and Beijing, is a multinational company of Chinese origin. It employs some 27,000 people worldwide (as of September 2011) and markets products in more than 160 countries.

In 1984, 11 computer development specialists established a company in a small one-story house with 200,000 yuan (25,000 U.S. dollars), with the goal of bringing the benefits of IT to the people of China. The company's name was Legend. The company succeeded in joining China's top companies in the field of consumer PCs in a short time. This was the first venture to introduce PCs to ordinary households in China. The company also developed a retail network all over China. At the same time, Legend introduced cards that converted English operating software to Chinese, and PCs that could connect to the Internet with the press of a button.

By 1994, just ten years later, the company was listed on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange, and four years after that, the company's cumulative production of PCs surpassed one million units, making Legend China's top PC vendor and a legend in both name and reality. Then in 2003, the company changed its brand name to Lenovo, and one year later, likewise changed the company's name to Lenovo. By the way, the "Le" in Lenovo stands for "Legend," and the "novo" means "new" in Latin. In 2004, the company's share of the Chinese market exceeded twenty-five percent, and currently the company commands nearly a third of this market. In 2005, Lenovo acquired IBM's PC business.

At present, in addition to its three R&D bases, Lenovo has manufacturing bases in China, Mexico, Poland, and India, as well as sales offices throughout the world.

As indicated by its dual headquarters in Beijing and the U.S., Lenovo, with its multinational management and employees, is very much a global company. Its operations are not concentrated in one location, as the company promotes world sourcing, using the best-suited resources in the most appropriate locations on a global level.

The Yamato lab is therefore an extremely independent organization. Both the Yamato lab and the Raleigh R&D center were originally IBM R&D centers. The Beijing facility has of course been Lenovo's R&D base from the beginning. As a result, following its acquisition of IBM's PC business, Lenovo has had three R&D bases.

These three bases each have distinct roles. The role of the Yamato lab is naturally to develop the ThinkPad Series. Raleigh is in charge of software and peripheral development, and Beijing is in charge of developing consumer PCs centered on the IdeaPad Series, as well as desktop PCs.

As a large number of major software vendors, such as Microsoft, are based in the U.S., having an R&D center in the U.S. is advantageous for joint development and negotiations. Frequently the Yamato lab loads software developed in the U.S. in products in Japan. By exploiting the time difference between the two countries, we have also a round-the-clock operation cycle whereby software developed in the U.S. gets tested in Japan, with feedback sent back to the U.S.

The Chinese market, and particularly the consumer PC market, is growing at a tremendous rate, and thus the R&D center in China holds an important position in terms of ensuring the growth of Lenovo as a whole.

We call these three bases the "innovation triangle" and these three bases seem to have their roles solidly established, and to be carrying them out. However, these bases have not been placed strategically, as the triangle was formed as the result of historical developments. Consequently, the development bases do not have lateral ties between each other and do not produce a synergetic effect.

The term silo is sometimes used to refer to a system not capable of reciprocal interaction with other related systems, and this is very much the case here. The respective teams do not really try to see what the other teams are doing. Such a situation is not necessarily negative. It has the positive aspect of allowing faster decision-making, as each team can act independently without consulting the others. However, this does not necessarily result in consistency at the company level. It also makes it impossible to send out a message with a single voice. Moreover, waste in the form of duplicate development work may also result.

As CDO (Chief Development Officer), I have worked to strengthen cooperation across the entire company, not just at the Yamato lab, by drawing the entire innovation triangle more closely together, and promoting mutual collaboration and lateral ties that span the entire development system.

Energizing the innovation triangle: Making the Yamato lab Lenovo's main R&D site

While the ThinkPad is its core product, the Yamato lab will further strengthen its role as Lenovo's main R&D site to assist in the development of Lenovo's notebook PCs and disseminate the PC development know-how acquired under IBM. Reinforcing ties with the R&D centers in the U.S. and China will be required to this end.

Lenovo has something called Lenovo Technology Outlook. This is an activity that consists in engineers from the research, development and engineering divisions of the three R&D bases getting together once a year for in-depth discussions of future trends in user environments, business, and technology, and to decide what new technologies, functions, and responses will be needed. These discussions are then written up in a report.

This activity does not consist solely in predicting the future and determining future development vectors. The engineers of the three R&D bases also share their respective philosophies and know-how, and this serves as the foundation for stronger collaboration. I want to strengthen such activities and push strongly for the further reinforcement of engineers' originality and ingenuity as well as partnerships.

Lenovo is developing the message that "the finest PCs can be born only from the finest engineers." I believe this to be true. I have been telling engineers about the importance of sending out information on their own initiative. This being a business, it's important that we align with marketers' wishes. Their opinions are important too. However, I believe that as motivated engineers, we should not just wait to be asked and instead actively send out information about what we want to create or what should be created.

Formerly, the gap between the marketing and service departments and the development department at Japanese manufacturers was a problem, and such companies were hotbeds of development battles in which users were left out of the picture. The problem was that such development departments went out of control, without any coordination with the marketing and other departments. I of course cannot approve of development departments that do not know how to listen. Marketers are naturally trusted partners of the development department. However, engineers shouldn't just passively wait for directions, but instead should actively release information and have the mettle to challenge things.

I believe that engineers are by nature extremely eager to provide information in the first place. Especially at the Yamato lab, everyone really loves PCs, and ThinkPads in particular, and they came to the lab as serious users. They all joined us because they wanted to participate in the development of ThinkPads. I think that skillfully harnessing this enthusiasm is a skill required in the leaders of the Yamato lab.

As CDO, it is my mission to spread the spirit, drive, and accumulated know-how of the Yamato lab throughout all of Lenovo, with a focus on the innovation triangle. I don't think at all that it is presumptuous to think of the Yamato lab as the main site of this triangle.

One thing that needs to be accomplished first, though, is promoting understanding. From my own perspective, it wouldn't do for me to just concentrate on the ThinkPad message. For example, if asked "What about the IdeaPad?" I should be able to give a clear answer on that subject. And not just as a spokesman—I should be able to explain things in my own words. But just being able to produce answers to specific questions is not enough. Consistency is required and answers must align well with our strategic portfolio. I used to communicate Yamato lab's messages, but my position now requires me to communicate messages for Lenovo as a whole. For example, the IdeaPad differs from the ThinkPad in certain respects. I must be able to answer why they differ and why that is fine. In terms of functions, specifications, standards.... For example, if we used the same durability tests standards for all our PCs, they would all be the same PC. But of course, they're all different. I must be able to provide such answers regarding consistency and legitimacy.

Leave the familiar to grow!

If we were to develop nothing but ThinkPads for the next ten years, the Yamato lab would probably lose all of its value.

The technologies cultivated for the ThinkPad are of absolute importance, but the lab must evolve into one that is capable of developing and using technologies for devices that nobody, including us, could conceive of at present.

We may also be called upon to help out with the development of the IdeaPad when its development staff sees this need arise. So far, we've sent about ten members to China, but I think that we will further strengthen such exchanges.

Naturally a framework such as "such-and-such department" or "such-and-such lab" is necessary for convenience's sake, but above and beyond that, I want to achieve in-house globalization in the true sense of the word. Constant self-negation will be required in order to move beyond the innovation dilemma. In that sense, the ultimate such denial would be to renounce the (traditional) ThinkPad. Only the Yamato lab would do such a thing in such a proactive manner.

The next challenge for the Yamato lab's engineers is to leave this familiar environment, this family-like lab, and to assert more firmly their position in the big field that is Lenovo. This will be beneficial for Lenovo, for the Yamato lab, and also for the own growth of the individuals involved.

At present, we work in a climate of mutual understanding and finely attuned to each other, so few words are needed. But if you go to a different group and want to properly incorporate your notions, your technologies, your ideas in a new product, you will have to go through various steps, providing solid explanations and asserting your points through repeated discussion. That may be a major challenge. But even if your new workplace is ideal, and even if the organization is progressive and operates smoothly, you are likely to become the proverbial big frog in a small well if you remain stuck in your little corner. You might go stale, which is no good for anyone.

We have conducted personnel exchanges among the three R&D bases already, but this has not been done at the organizational level. For example, Yamato lab engineers are now eyeing changes in the allocation of work involving responsibilities for the development of other products besides the ThinkPad, as well as organization design changes. This is no easy challenge.

I also would like for other organizations within Lenovo to plan new projects that take advantage of the capabilities of Yamato lab engineers. I want the organization to achieve such scope. At any rate, I'm convinced that growing complacent in the current environment is not something that we can afford.

I have no reason to worry in this regard—our current engineers are all much hardier than I and my generation. Most of those suddenly called upon to be stationed in China to train new local employees there go without hesitation. They capably carry out their role as missionaries, fully learn what they need to, and return to Japan enriched by the stimulation this experience has afforded them.

Everybody starts out a bit timidly, even if they don't say so. This is only to be expected, since they don't know the extent to which locally recruited people will be capable of working as members of their team. Confronting so many unknowns contributes to their nervousness. But when they come back to Japan, having seen how hard the locals work, they happily report things like "Everybody really soaked up what I taught them like water. They studied diligently." People who experience this firsthand will find many things to learn from this if they are perceptive. This is likely to start a virtuous cycle.

Even if they go over full of doubt, coming back filled with amazement as a result of their experience abroad means that they've seen a different world at Lenovo and learned from it. Having expanded their horizons, they will realize, to a greater or lesser degree, what they themselves need to do next.

The future of the ThinkPad—Thoughts about the age of multiple devices

Changing subjects, smartphones and tablet PCs have become popular in recent years, and we are naturally concerned about such trends. We must think about how such trends should be interpreted in the field of corporate solutions, even though such new products are mainly aimed at individuals and thus do not compete in the same arena.

By nature I tend to be doubtful when something sounds too interesting. Of course, I don't have doubts about the future of smartphones and tablets. Yet talk about the age of PCs coming to an end because of the popularity of tablets strains credulity. This is completely unlikely, in my opinion. Actually, the emergence of smartphones and tablets has not had the effect of shrinking the PC market. I think that what these people want to say is that, the portion of the growth that would have occurred had tablets not appeared was gobbled up by tablets. I don't deny that that has occurred to some extent, but PCs and tablets are fundamentally different machines. Even if a person uses both types of devices, it is just not possible to completely switch to tablets at the expense of PCs.

The difference between PCs and tablets ultimately comes down to differences in processors. I previously said that PCs are constantly getting faster, and as machines specially designed for performance, there is no question that they will continue to achieve higher performance. Performance literally means user efficiency, work efficiency. People who use PCs for their work are incredibly focused and therefore speed is extremely important to them. I repeat myself, but a ten-second delay waiting for the site host to update is intolerable.

However, when one is trying to do something while outside and walking, one values convenience more than performance. The ability to view and send emails while on the move, being able to take pictures of what one is having for lunch and being able to easily post them on Facebook. Being able to view menus on an easy-to-see screen and order home delivered pizza. If you always walk about with your device in your pocket, you don't require the same level of performance as that of a PC.

The applications and purposes of these two types of devices are different in the first place. Tablets are definitely situated toward the middle of the product spectrum in this discussion, but even so I don't believe anybody would have the courage to buy a tablet and get rid of their PC. When you compare items that differ so greatly in their purpose, it is impossible to categorically judge in favor of one or the other. You just won't be able to determine the winner.

The U.S. is said to have seen a rise in the number of women called "soccer moms." Known to do other things while watching their kids play soccer, they are so-called multitaskers. Such soccer moms doubtlessly love to use smartphones, not PCs. Or at most, tablets. So this is a user category that might not own PCs.

What about the business people? They normally work using PCs. And yet, if a businessperson does not need to sit down and focus on a job today, and wants to go out the office without carrying a notebook PC, that person will chose another device. The problem that then arises is data syncing. Since that person was working on a PC until just a moment ago, his or her data is still on the PC. The data cannot be synchronized. This, in other words the difficulty of instant data porting, is the exact reason why it was not convenient to use multiple devices. Until around 2008, I myself had been telling the research team to "create an architecture that allows data syncing." However, this is no longer necessary, thanks to cloud computing. With the cloud and wireless connections, it has become easy to selectively use multiple devices according to the situation. As a result, the issue of which of smartphones/tablets and PCs will win out no longer exists—because users can now selectively use the best device for the purpose of the moment.

Of the above devices, smartphones and tablets extensively use and rely on the capabilities of the Internet, while PCs use the Internet's capabilities but also make extensive use of their local engine and work hard even on a standalone basis. The appearance and spread of many different devices, including smartphones and tablets, is welcomed by PC manufacturers. Some cannibalization is likely to occur, but more than that, I think that this will offer users a more meaningful business environment with more choices in the form of multiple devices.

Based on this, engineers will be called upon to create new devices that have yet to be envisioned. For example, new social media, such as Facebook, Twitter, and Google+, are already quite popular. What this suggests is that a shift is occurring, from search (which was dominant until now) to broadcasting, and from a 1-N to an N-N configuration. And in that case, the tools that will be needed in the future may well be machines that facilitate broadcasting even more than searching.

Thanks to search engines such as Google and Yahoo!, it is now possible to search a truly astounding volume of information via the Internet. This is a sea change in terms of raising productivity. I think that this will be taken further in the future and that we will need machines that make it easy to broadcast information, in other words machines that facilitate information (idea) creation—PCs that raise not only productivity but also creativity.

Actually, I have an idea of what an ideal device might be like. Not one of today's notebook PCs, which actually have to be toted around, but a notebook or a binder, which can be carried around much more easily. A mobile PC made by embedding PC functions in such an item to contribute to user productivity and creativity would truly be the ultimate ThinkPad.

However, one component that we have built into the ThinkPad will not change. That is our philosophy, the product concept, which we have maintained all along. No matter what products are included in our lineup, this is something we will not forsake. There is a part that cannot be seen by the eye, which nobody can preserve except engineers. I want to implant this part in the teams that the Yamato lab leads or with whom it conducts development. In other words, I think that Lenovo as a whole must preserve this philosophy.

For example, whether it is the tactile feel of the keyboard or some other aspect, we will not rashly acquiesce to suggestions to "make it cheaply and just stick the ThinkPad logo on it." Engineers who take up such proposals will end up losing the trust of customers, and such a company will fail. Thus, the ThinkPad philosophy must be preserved. Put the other way around, I think that we will succeed as long as we manage to preserve that. But it won't do to go about it self-righteously. Neither would form an anti-reform faction within the company. Let's say that the price is 1500 yen, when customers demand a product priced at 1000 yen is not acceptable. Engineers must understand their own goals as well as those of customers. Let's say that until now a given standard had a numerical value of 50, for example. Now, if this value were to be lowered to 40, the cost could be reduced to 1000 yen. We may then reconsider whether the value should be 50, or whether it could be lowered to 40. This does not mean that standards can be changed lightly, but the attitude that one should push one's ideas, one's own sense of things at any cost is not part of the Yamato lab's DNA. Finding the right balance is the difficult thing.

So far, our engineers have overcome all the difficult challenges they've been presented with. I've just been saying "Yes, right," so I can't really complain. The engineers are the ones who have done the hard work. That they were able to accomplish all this is also attributable to the fact that the Yamato lab is not just a place they happened to wander into. They came here by choice, this is a place they yearned for, and our products were like our children... This is why they could also endure the hardships, and why the ideas came pouring forth. The degree of commitment was different from the very start. The level of motivation was different.

Yes, I create the ThinkPad along with everybody else. However, the ThinkPad, both the product and the brand, has protected me and the Yamato lab, and contributed to our growth.

A unique worldview born from our collaboration with Wintel

I'd like to briefly touch upon the topic of Wintel and assembly manufacturers.

This is the topic of most PC manufacturers having become mere assemblers owing to the fact that Microsoft (Windows) and Intel have taken for themselves the heart of PCs.

I cannot say whether such manufacturers actually exist, but if a manufacturer, whether IBM or Lenovo, were a mere assembler, we would not need labs to begin with. Of course, this debate has never been directed toward the ThinkPad, but even so, it certainly suggests an important point: Microsoft and Intel must be taken seriously. This means that we have to create favorable relationships with them and plan a course for mutual development.

For instance, regarding the development of Windows 7, Microsoft and Lenovo jointly developed a Lenovo version program called Lenovo Enhanced Experience 2.0 for Windows 7. This was an original program designed to optimize the performance of PCs running Windows 7 that shortened the time required to boot up and shut down Windows 7 on Lenovo-made PCs. This resulted in an average bootup time 20 seconds shorter than ordinary Windows 7 PCs, and a 28 percent faster shutdown speed.

I believe that it will become increasingly important not just to haphazardly assemble machines combining Microsoft's software and Intel's CPUs, but to harmonize our respective notions and concepts so as to create the best possible solutions. After all, one of Japan's technical strengths is its ability to achieve such harmony. By focusing on this ability, I trust that we will be able to steer clear of becoming a mere assembler of parts.

Taking to hard study after entering IBM by chance

I was born in Aichi Prefecture in 1952.

In 1970, I entered the Department of Instrumentation Engineering at the Faculty of Engineering (now called Faculty of Science and Technology) of Keio University. At the time, there were only five departments, Applied Chemistry, Administration Engineering, Electrical Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, and Instrumentation Engineering. In truth, when I entered the university, I was unsure about what I wanted to do. My father had studied mechanical engineering at university, so I had a vague notion of pursuing studies in the same field.

In those days, Keio University students declared a major in their third year, not their first year. As I took university courses in my first two years, I got interested in studying semiconductors, which were all the rage then. But unfortunately, Keio did not have a department for semiconductor studies.

On the face of it, instrumentation engineering is a discipline that studies automation, in the sense of performing measurements and applying feedback. It is about automated control. However, I learned of a laboratory that was renting space on the premises that did work closely related to semiconductors, so I visited there. The professor was an applied physicist, and his specialty was quantum mechanics. As a result, I was able to study semiconductors to some extent, though only for two years. As I didn't go to graduate school, my university studies were not really in depth.

Even so, I wanted to join a semiconductor firm. Although this was only a vague notion, I thought I wanted to design integrated circuits. At the time, calculators were extremely large in size. In terms of semiconductor devices, the first devices to come out were just light emitting diodes. The level of integration was still extremely low, and the age of large-scale integration circuits was yet to come. Even so, I felt that semiconductors would open the way to the future. Still, I didn't think of computers at that time. I suppose I did not care about finished products back then.

And so my aim was diversified electronics manufacturers, because at the time, only major electric appliance makers did research on semiconductors. The problem was that this was the first year of the oil shock crisis, and the entire semiconductor industry went into a slump. Visits to companies would be systematically greeted by "We're not hiring." To which they'd kindly add, "It will be the same everywhere you go."

Everywhere I went (actually just two or three companies, as there weren't that many diversified electronics manufacturers), I would be told "Sorry, the division you are interested in is not hiring now. By the way, are you interested in computers?"

This was just a vaguely put question. They didn't even specify whether they meant software or hardware. In any case, I considered IBM to be the top company for computers, so the third or fourth company I visited was IBM Japan.

This was the first year that recruiting before the official start of the recruiting season was prohibited under an agreement among Japanese companies. In other words, the starting date for tentative job offers was October 1. This meant that university seniors in their final year and due to enter employment in April of the following year were given only a single season to hunt for jobs. Moreover, Japan was in a recession, and I recall that all the students were quite worried that if their company of first choice did not accept them, they might be left high and dry. Therefore nobody wanted to be adventurous and everybody wanted to go where they were promised they'd be hired.

In my case, one company had told me that they'd probably hire me, and although this was not an iron-clad guarantee, I was quite excited. But when I went to my university to receive a letter of recommendation, I was told that "No, there are no employment offers for the Department of Instrumentation and Engineering from this company." I thought this to be strange, but I didn't push it and asked "In that case, please give me a letter of recommendation for IBM Japan." However, it turned out that what they'd told me was a mistake, which I found out about when I passed the office a few days later and saw a correction notice on the bulletin board. That company, one of the diversified electronics manufacturers, had indeed submitted an employment offer.

I haven't the faintest idea what I would be doing now if had I gone to that company, but in my state of mind at the time, knowing that this was my only shot at getting hired, had this mix-up not occurred and had I received the required letter of recommendation, I definitely would have accepted the offer. I suppose that the way things turned out was the work of fate. When I realized that a mix-up had occurred, I could still have tracked back, but already having received a letter of recommendation for IBM, I would not have felt pushed by the stars if told directly by the university office "our mistake" at that late stage. At the time, IBM Japan did not perform company-wide recruitment, instead hiring by division, and I stated on my application form that I wanted to be assigned to the Fujisawa lab.

When I got to the examination hall, hundreds of applicants were already assembled there. When somebody raised a hand and asked "How many people will the lab hire this time?" The reply was "just a select few." Along with all the others, I thought to myself, "This is not good..."

I think that IBM really hesitated about whether they should hire me. I'm saying this because after the written exam, there was an interview, but they did not send me their response for two long weeks after that interview. Just as I was getting worried and ready to put in motion a recovery plan, the offer of a position arrived.

The "select few" numbered five. I actually felt that I had somehow, extraordinarily, managed to get in. I was truly thankful. I remember thinking that the select few were really four persons, and that I myself had somehow managed to squeeze in by other means.

Having accomplished very little during my student days, I really took to hard study after entering IBM Japan. A great thing for me was that, unlike now, computers were still taking baby steps, the level of integration was still very low, and thus you could figure out the entire contents of a semiconductor module if you wished to do so. Thus I was able to catch up on what I didn't know.

Today it's a different story. The amount of technologies and circuit elements has reached stratospheric levels, and understanding each and every gate is impossible. The fact that I didn't understand English at all also spurred me to action. My ignorance of the language prevented me from dealing with areas that I should have addressed, and seeing everybody just chat away while all I could do was to stand by, I decided that I had to study at all cost. Naturally, websites did not exist at the time, so I rushed over to the bookstore. Though I lived in Fujisawa, I didn't know any good bookstores there, so I went out to Shibuya, where I often hung out as a student, and I pored over books on weekends. Even I think that I studied pretty hard.

English turns out to be tougher than computers

Honestly, my English didn't progress for a long time, but I would watch the English education programs on NHK (Japan's national public broadcasting organization) in the morning before going to work, practicing the English by parroting it back. Such approach, however, did not make me able to speak English by a long shot. What allowed me to actually develop an ear for English was firsthand experience. I believe it was in the mid-1980s that an American engineer was assigned to give me guidance, and for a while I had to converse with him in English on a daily basis, and that's when I developed an ear for the language. As you might expect, on-the-job training driven by necessity and a sense of urgency is what makes people grow the most—though it has the demerit of causing stress to build up...

Around that time, the company had introduced TOEIC (Test of English for International Communication) testing. This turned out to be a good timing for me. Until then, I'd received failing grades for interviews, but now having developed an ear for English, I received an extremely high score the first time I took the test. Although this high score may have clouded my judgment, I really got used to English when, after being promoted to manager, I spend about six months traveling back and forth between Japan and Boca Raton in the U.S. Subsequent stays in the U.S. then allowed me to acquire a degree of speaking proficiency.

Having gotten to this point, I can now say that English used to scare me. I was particularly hopeless on the phone. When the phone rang, I didn't want to answer, that's how bad it was. While in the U.S., I worked as an assistant to a director and would receive many calls. Though I had to pick up, I decided not to do so before three rings. And each time I would hope for the other side to hang up before then. Since nobody hangs up before three rings, I wound up having to answer. This was my habitual routine in the beginning.

I then decided to rent videos and pick up one expression I'd like to use myself from every video and memorize it.

Some people say that technical terms are what give them a hard time, but for me technical terms were easy, probably because the computer terms used in Japan generally come either in English or in katakana (characters used to transcribe English and other foreign words). For this reason, even now I understand only half of what's going on outside the company (in other fields), although I understand about 80% of the stuff in my own company. For example, if I were suddenly told about astronomy, I would have a hard time understanding.

Carrying on a fluent conversation over drinks is also difficult. The problem is not just one of understanding the meaning of individual words, but of getting a grip on expressions that use simple words such as "take" and "have," for example.

There is one episode I vividly remember after all these years. It occurred on my first visit to the U.S. I was extremely tense and somebody said to me "Take it easy!" My jet-lagged thoughts were as follows: I understand "Take." I understand "it" too. Of course I get "easy." But what on earth does "Take it easy!" mean? That being the level of my English at the time, I couldn't possibly have relaxed.

My discussion has veered far into the topic of English, but one thing is certain: if you work in a foreign-affiliated company, let alone a global company, whether as an engineer or any other profession, English is a challenge that must be overcome.

I don't know what the future holds, but I have been blessed with a happy life so far

Although this could be held up as a paradigm of ignorance, the equation in my head when I joined IBM read "Computer = Mainframe." After receiving my tentative job offer from the company, I was taken on a tour to the Fujisawa Plant. This was where mainframes were being made. So I naturally assumed that this is what computers were about. But I was in for a major surprise after I actually joined IBM: IBM Japan was not involved in the development of mainframes. I was surprised, but I had not joined IBM because I wanted to create mainframes at any cost, and not being the type of person who can do something in particular, but rather the type that doesn't know how to do anything, I learned things daily under the guidance of my seniors and every day was a fun one.

I was not the type of person who always wants to do new things, but rather the type who does not feel reluctance toward new things. Therefore, as I've already explained in Chapter 1, I have come thus far by being assigned Kanji characters, workstations, and PCs to work on, and it's not like I will now be able to do whatever I like. However, with a lot of interesting and challenging work in front of me, I regard manufacturing craftsmanship as something that is and will continue to be incredibly fun.

And so I consider myself extremely lucky. Even if I was to be born again and studied and worked harder the next time around, I think I wouldn't be able to have such a blessed life as the one I have now, even if I were reborn a hundred times. It's probably a lucky combination of the right times and the right people. The transfer from IBM to Lenovo has also been far from a bad thing. If I had in truth thought even slightly that this transfer was not a good thing, I should in a sense have secretly felt apologetic to the members of the Yamato lab whom I rallied and took with me. However, I felt no such thing at all. My take on the transfer from IBM to Lenovo is that it really worked out well for everybody, and so I truly believe that it was the right choice.

And even though I can say that now, it's true that I felt some worry when I finally convinced everyone. It was a bit like saying "It's going to be alright" while clasping the other person's hand. And then I felt also a touch of anxiety while maintaining the status quo for more than two years. Of course, I did not stand idle during this time, and in the end, Lenovo did not disappoint us. On the contrary, Lenovo treated us just as we had hoped.

To be honest, probably all concerned and those around us felt some apprehension about us going over to a company from China. We had been with an American company until then, whereas China, though close by geographically, was an unfamiliar country that greatly differed from Europe and the U.S., as well as Japan. Of course, it's not like we hadn't had dealings with people from China under IBM, but those relations were not that close. And thus we were kind of worried. Japan-bashing demonstrations were taking place in Shanghai just then, and traveling to Beijing was to me a somewhat troubling prospect.

However, all these worries came to nothing. The streets of Beijing were safe, and talking with the local engineers, I was relieved to find out that engineers everywhere talk about the same things. And I was reminded that individual differences are greater than race differences. I was elated to realize that "everybody's the same."

Chapter 5 Some Things Can Be Achieved only by a Truly Global Company

The conditions and growth factors of a global company as exemplified by Lenovo

I said previously that I thought the transfer to Lenovo to be a good bridge. It really turned out to be the case. At first, there were people saying all kinds of things. There was a lot of misunderstanding and concern. Most had to do with whether Lenovo was a truly global company. Some people would say "It's only a local company from China, isn't it?"

However, this was a great mistake. We don't use Americans, Australians, and Europeans just for window displays. Lenovo is a truly multinational company, a global company.

There are all kinds of global companies, but if the country of origin is the complete master and at the top of the hierarchy, and all the other countries amount to no more than markets, that company is not truly global. It may be international, but it is not global. Many companies with operations on a global scale have a management that is clearly lopsided. The internationalization of most of Japan's large companies used to fit this pattern. Internationalization for most Japanese companies consisted in increasing their multinational portfolio of overseas bases. Japan is not unique in this regard. Multinational companies in Europe and the U.S. are much the same. This type of multinational company considers its own management methods to be the best and simply rolls them out abroad. However, such methods are not necessarily so easily accepted in the many other countries they've set up in. Upon realizing this, the company may make a 180-degree change. For instance, Japanese companies are trying to learn Western management methods, while Western companies try to learn Japanese management methods.

It has been said that there are three conditions for a global company. One is that the company must have global operations. Another one is that the company's management must be diversified and international in character, and that its management methods must also be diversified and multinational. The last is that the company must have a culture that is globally accepted. In other words, the company must not be overly focused on western-style rationalism, or on the holistic Asian style. Put another way, it should be neither too dry nor too wet. More than anything, the company must have balanced openness. A playing field that is level for all is also important.

How does Lenovo fare with these considerations? First and foremost, Lenovo's management is the very definition of multinational. It has people from various countries, including the U.S., China, Japan, Australia, and France. I think that Lenovo is a very unique company in that it combines culture from the East and West, and it's not a question of which side is which, but instead, that all sides can clearly speak their minds. In this sense, Lenovo is an extremely fair company that offers a level playing field to all its members. Whether European, American, or Asian, or from one of the developing countries, everybody can work on an equal footing.

The result is that there are many seeds of growth. Lenovo is a company that combines the Eastern spirit with the Western genius, and the Western spirit with the Eastern genius.

Lenovo's headquarters are in Raleigh, North Carolina, and Beijing, China, but their management style is anything but remote. Executives are distributed in all the right places throughout the world and the real headquarter functions could even be said to exist in virtual space. We call this approach "world sourcing." I think it's because its purpose is to quickly bring to the group the seeds of innovation, the talent, the new ways of thinking, and of course the technologies that come into being around the world.

In other words, the company constantly scouts for places to get the best human resources, the best new ideas, and the sources of our next competitive strengths. Lenovo's management is most definitely on-the-move.

As an example, let's look at a reporting line, say that of a senior manager of corporate communications at Lenovo Japan. The person in our example is a Japanese woman, but although she is in Japan, her immediate senior is an Australian, who himself reports to a Dutch senior who resides in Paris, France. That person in turn reports to CEO Yang Yuanqing, who himself is Chinese and resides in the U.S., in Raleigh.

This is just one reporting line taken at a given point in time, but it illustrates the degree to which Lenovo's management has no national borders.

Like I said, Lenovo operates by an on-the-move management style, and they don't stay put. On the contrary, they actively meet with customers and directly listen to wishes and requests for products. In this particular case, the arrangements are made by the marketing departments, but similar activities are taking place all around the world.

Amid all this, Japan is positioned as an R&D and a manufacturing base, and its market is known as having the pickiest consumers of all, meaning it has a major role to play. However, Japan is a bit down these days. This being a global company with a level playing field, I feel that I personally ought to do a little more, so that Japan too can stand on an equal footing. One initiating factor toward this is, I believe, our tie-up with NEC, which will be discussed later.

At one point, the slogan "Think global, Act local" was popular, but Lenovo is a company that "thinks global and acts global."

At present, the majority of Japanese companies include "diversity" among their keywords, but at global companies, diversity can be said to be the accepted norm and the normal state.

An attitude toward people for whom English is not their mother tongue that is often seen in Western companies is the assumption that "fluency in English is a given," and people will shoot off in rapid-fire English at company meetings and so on, oblivious of the non-native speakers who have limited English. The attitude of the native speakers is, "If you can't understand what I say, it's your fault." This extends beyond language, as often such persons will communicate only in their accustomed style. For example, they'll declare that logical is best and will demand "What's the conclusion? Please respond in three points."

Such attitude is negated by Lenovo's diversity. With our own CEO being a non-native speaker of English, people who do not speak this language natively are also able to participate in management on an equal footing. This extends beyond management, to all other corporate activities. English remains the common language of the company, but everybody can engage in communication in an understanding environment. People will talk to you at an intelligible speed instead of rapid-fire. Beyond language, ours is a deeply ingrained culture of thinking, talking, and seeking to understand by assuming the viewpoint of the other person.

Our approach to operations is similar. Ours is not a culture that embraces a standard way of doing things and condemns any deviations, no matter how slight they may be. This is because we combine firm criteria and processes as a base, with the flexibility to allow for some leeway. We are also passionate about knowledge sharing, and conduct workshops in various fields, including development, sales, marketing, supply chains, logistics, and finance.

People who normally communicate via email or phone will attend a workshop somewhere in the world for a week. Such a workshop typically welcomes between fifty and sixty people from the same division, who come in from all over the world. Cross discussion is the basic format. There is absolutely no hierarchy involved, and the participants are free to bounce off opinions and discuss new ideas together. At such times, if a native speaker of English speaks too fast, people who were unable to catch what was said will not cower but instead simply ask the person to speak more slowly. Whether or not a person is a native speaker of English bears no relation on whether his or her ideas are good or not. Ours is a culture of always being considerate to and respecting of others. We also select and announce best practices at such workshops in order to share that know-how and knowledge.

Lenovo is characterized by flexibility, and such workshops do not follow a fixed schedule. Our personnel evaluation system, knowledge sharing system, and feedback systems, among other things, are naturally fixed, but flexibility is built into all of them. They are not rigid structures with no latitude at all. They are encompassing systems that value fuzziness. In this sense, they may be called Eastern.

We do not think that once something is decided, it can never be changed, and if something has not been decided, it must be decided without fail. We are constantly evolving. If we think things need to be changed, we rapidly change them. We do knowledge-sharing through workshops and other events. And we share best practices. However, we don't make them into stereotypes. We don't create templates and treat them as monolithic points of reference. If people think they can be of use, they are free to make them into templates for local use. If people don't think they will work out for them, they are free to reject them.

In other words, we understand that common sense can take on a variety of forms.

This can also be put another way. Using the computer industry for illustrative purposes, Japanese companies have been said to have the problem of ignoring differences in operating systems and seeking to introduce middleware and applications with Western specifications at all costs. I think the OS analogy is easy to understand.

What we are after is to create the best possible OS, which represents the core element of the company, by collecting knowledge from around the world and giving all due consideration to diversity.

Moreover, Lenovo maintains an extremely clear performance concept. Bonuses shrink to a surprising degree when business results are poor—so much so that my daughter's bonus has exceeded mine some years. But when we have strong business results, the company really pays us well! Compared to the surprisingly large number of companies that don't pay much when performance is poor, and that don't pay too much either for good results, I find Lenovo extremely fair.

As a matter of fact, Lenovo is a fast growing company. For seven consecutive terms, it has recorded the highest growth rates in the entire PC industry, and with a 10.2 percent share of the global PC market, it is third after HP and Dell (as of the end of June 2011). In the Japanese PC market as well, Lenovo's growth rate has exceeded the market's for eight consecutive terms.

To give you some ThinkPad figures, global shipments by units rose from approximately 4 million units in 2004 to approximately 12 million units in 2010, surging up for seven consecutive years. The total number of units shipped by Lenovo continues to rapidly rise, in developed and developing nations alike.

While being a brand attached to global corporations that originated overseas, first IBM and then Lenovo, the DNA of the ThinkPad, which clearly originated in Japan, is recognized throughout the world, and the fact that the ThinkPad's reputation keeps on growing, especially in this age, is something of which I am truly proud. I would be very happy if this movement could inspire or invigorate Japan, even if just a little.

The launch of NEC Lenovo Japan Group is a very exciting development

In January 2011, Lenovo and NEC announced that they would establish a joint venture company based on a strategic alliance, and along with the creation of the holding company Lenovo NEC Holdings B.V. (registered in the Netherlands) on July 1 of the same year, Japan's largest PC business group, NEC Lenovo Japan Group, was launched. The new group will have a share of nearly 25 percent of Japan's PC market, with a strong presence in both the commercial/government sector and in consumer sales.

NEC Lenovo Japan Group is made up of three companies: the joint venture (51 percent held by Lenovo and 49 percent by NEC), and its 100 percent-owned subsidiary companies, NEC Personal Computers Ltd., (newly formed by spinning out NEC's PC business unit from NEC Personal Products Ltd.), and Lenovo Japan Ltd. (see figure on p. 189). Roderick Lappin, President of Lenovo Japan Ltd., has been named Executive Chairman of the joint venture, while Hideyo Takasu, President and representative director of NEC Personal Computers Ltd., is President and CEO.

Here's what I said at a meeting with NEC's people.

"Personally, I strongly feel like I have been fighting a lonely battle all this time. So I am delighted about this collaboration with NEC."

These words were no idle flattery, they are truly how I feel. If possible, I would like to join forces with the whole of Japan to conduct research and development.

Why is this so? Let me give you an example.

A Yamato lab member says, "This is how it's done." To which, an NEC member asks, "Why is that?" This leads to a back and forth exchange between the engineers, demonstrating the degree of like-mindedness between them.

They feel like they've finally met someone they can really talk with. The NEC person then asks back, "If we do it like that, won't we be unable to maximize the graphics performance?" To which our engineer replies, "When we want to do this, it's designed this way in order to make this setting possible." "Oh, I see, that's how this thing is designed." The conversation just bounces along like that.

What this joint venture means is that we get one more set of people to join in this kind of conversation. This is extremely gratifying—because 1 + 1 equals not 2, but 3 or 5. That's what synergy is about.

As I wrote earlier, I do not think that M&As can be successful if they do not involve entities that are in a complementary relationship. The case at hand is exactly like that. NEC's operations target the domestic market. The Japanese market differs from the global market, and NEC has technologies that we need for the Japanese market. NEC has a long history in Japan, as well as an extensive sales network that covers the entire country, and thus should be more attuned to the needs of Japanese customers (particularly individual customers). It's clear that there is much we can learn from NEC in this regard.

On the other hand, we have more of the skills and know-how needed for a stable supply of PCs on a worldwide basis. This must be attractive to NEC. If we were to liken the Yamato lab to a company, this means that the lab would be delivering the products of Japanese manufacturing to the world using Lenovo's structure and networks. And NEC too would then be able to use this structure and network. Moreover, in terms of number of PC units shipped, Lenovo is ten times bigger than NEC. Therefore, in addition to gaining access to world markets, NEC will be able to use Lenovo's scale advantage in terms of materials procurement.

We have different market sector profiles, as NEC's strength is in the consumer and public sectors, while ours is in large companies. In this regard too, we complement each other well.

Our respective strong fields also differ. I think we can expect great things from that in terms of synergy.

Based on my experience actually meeting with the NEC camp, I am confident that we will not suffer the oft-described M&A hangover, perhaps thanks to our characteristics as fellow engineers.

Of course, setting aside us engineers, the merger of two such large players involves great complexities for the people of the various sections of both companies who are responsible for the practical details of negotiations and procedures. However, when I ask these people about that, they tell me that things are actually rather easy because the two companies have a greater readiness to take in new things compared with other companies. I think this is because our cultures are not about imposing ideas and action but rather always aiming to create something good together.

Higher productivity allows for richer personal lives

The following is about when we started developing the ThinkPad at IBM.

At the time, my fellow engineers and I worked so hard that we'd be asking one another "When was the last time you took a day off?" I even pleaded with my staff, "Please do not come to work on New Year's Day. Because if you guys come, I'll have to come too. So I'm asking you, don't come in on New Year's Day." You see, every day except New Year's Day was a work day back then.

The reason we had to work every day was that, unlike today, we didn't have email access at home, and so had to go to the office when some announcement would come in or we had to communicate with somebody. So we'd go to work even on Saturdays and Sundays, and being under pressure from all sides, we worked every day until late at night. That's what that period was like.

Every day, we'd get back home around 11at night. One person lived near me, so we'd take a taxi together. One day, our taxi almost got involved in an accident with another taxi. The collision was avoided by just a hair's breadth, and I and my fellow passenger muttered pretty much the same thing at the same time: "It would have been just as well if we'd collided. This way we could have slept in the hospital."

Naturally, the driver made a face. I fully realize we shouldn't have said such an improper thing, but at the time, we were dead tired and while what we said was nonsense, that was how we felt. Working that way is nothing to be proud of. I'm not denying that I was a corporate soldier, a workaholic, during that period, but I can no longer endorse such a way of working. I don't think that Japan would be able to regenerate itself at all in this fashion. This is not the type of effort I expect of people today.

The value of a person cannot be measured in terms of work hours. Productivity is important. We work hard for this purpose. We are dedicated to creating notebook PCs, those professional tools that allow people to raise their work productivity regardless of time and place.

If people were able to read their emails at home, they wouldn't need to go to the office just for that purpose. If people had a PC at hand, they could just work where they are. And if they made full use of multiple devices, they would be able to use their time even more efficiently.

When people are told that they can work "365 days a year, 24 hours a day," they all misconstrue this to mean that they can't rest or should work round the clock. No, what this means is that since they can work anytime, they can use their own time more freely.

A precious Saturday or Sunday will get used up if you have to ride the train all the way to work just to check for and reply to email, even if that one task takes care of work on that day. I think that most people are fed up with that kind of life. If one were able to check one's emails in the evening or at night and reply as needed, that would be that. It doesn't even have to be at home. Since notebook PCs and other mobile devices are portable, they can just be taken along. When out on a business trip, or even on a leisure trip, one can easily take out a moment to check one's email and accomplish some work. Even busy persons would be able to enjoy leisure time if they had a notebook PC with advanced security and wireless functions, or a smartphone or cellular phone. That's right, everybody would be able to multitask like a "soccer mom". These tools and technology allow you to make time for your family.

For instance, in Japanese airports, it's common to see quite a number of Japanese people working on their PC in the lobby. But such activity can hardly be seen on bullet trains. Various factors are behind this, such as houses being too small or wives expressing disapproval when their husbands bring work back home, but even so, by allowing workers to get some work done at home, such tools enable them to spend more time with their family.

"Seisansei," the Japanese term for "productivity," suggests productivity like that of a machine. For this reason, I prefer to use the English word "productivity." It does not have connotations of corporate slavery. On the contrary, it should be about helping people to better design their personal lives.

Work hard against all odds in the beginning; make it all come true in the end

I'm veering off topic a little, but recently there's something I've been feeling unhappy about. And that is, why do the Japanese seek to drag down leaders so much?

The greater the heights a leader ascends to, the more your own world will expand. If you drag down your leader, your own world will greatly shrink. And when that happens in Japan, everybody spontaneously cries out in unison that Japan has gone bad. I think this is a mistake. No matter what the world thinks, we should be confident in ourselves and not drop "great" from the terms we use to describe ourselves.

But the Japanese are a humble people, and it seems that recently Japanese people are putting themselves at ease by intentionally putting themselves down, by badmouthing themselves. Badmouthing Japan, the Japanese, and Japan's leaders is the same as badmouthing oneself.

To begin with, Japanese humility is a cultural practice that requires that when a person says "I do not amount to much of anything," the other person protests, "But not at all, what are you saying?" However, no foreigner will accommodate today's Japanese in such a manner, and the end result is that the Japanese are just putting themselves down, period.

Of course, singing about how great we are won't do either. I think that it's important that we start making efforts to pick ourselves up. If we disparage ourselves, we won't be able to make such efforts. People are able to make efforts when they truly think that they are great. If we try and do our best, we will definitely accomplish what we set out to do. Even if all the odds are against you in the beginning, work hard and make it come true in the end. This is the way I've been leading my life.

At times, I've used exaggeration, and at other times posturing. But in the end I made it all come true, though of course not on my own only. I'm confident that the Japanese have the needed talent and skills to succeed.

Today, Japan is losing out in various places. Japan's traditional strengths are all being overtaken by the Western world and Asia. And likewise for flat-screen TVs, digital cameras, cell phones, PCs. I believe that even our position in the automotive industry is at risk.

However, Japan's technological prowess is still in good shape. And our engineers are motivated. Japan's economy was, and still is, export-driven. And our exports are not just manufactured goods.

For example, it is my belief that the development capabilities of a global company constitute an export industry. The Yamato lab is an organization that has been and still is funded from around the world to export its output.

This is an age in which categorizing companies as being Japanese, American, or Chinese has become meaningless. Lenovo aims to be a global company. In the same way that Lenovo does not profess to be of any one country, the Yamato lab, though it is located in Japan, is not solely a Japanese organization.

I think that this offers a clue, though not the only one, about how to revitalize the Japanese economy.

Young people are searching for their own playing fields. I believe that one of the selection factors, or judgment criteria, is whether a company is a global company, regardless of its size. The notion of selecting a company based on it being a major corporation or a venture business is already obsolete.
Epilogue

In the end, what we engineers should value the most is imagination. Imagine, and then create.

Imagine not just what we ourselves fancy, but the situations in which users make use of these tools. And then, as professionals, imagine how these tools can be put to use.

Creativity is important, and so is consideration. An eye for observation is crucial as well.

Set goals in this way and then think about how to achieve them. Quantitative data is the process, and the result. Such data is essential for development, but it is not needed for presentations.

Please hit this key.

Please carry it around with you for one day.

Try to do some work next to your sleeping child.

Use this to surf the net.

Experience how you can get by without having to be aware of security.

Move around and try out different things without having to worry at all about how the wireless system changes according to your location.

This may sound like a commercial, but engineers aren't truly engineers if they can't ask users to do the above.

Customers don't like PCs per se, they like what PCs enable them to do. They are not interested in PC screens, they are interested in what's displayed on these screens. They don't love keyboards, they like the documents, plans, equations and programs that they can produce by typing on keyboards.

Thus PCs are definitely not the leading actors. They are just tools. That said, no other tools are as useful.

We will keep on refining these tools, for all.

On an auspicious day in October 2011

Arimasa Naitoh

Arimasa Naitoh

Vice-President, R&D

Lenovo Japan Corporation

Lenovo Group Product Group

Vice-President

Chief Development Officer (CDO)

Lenovo Fellow

1952 Born in Aichi Prefecture

1974 Graduated Keio University, Faculty of Engineering, Department of Instrumentation Engineering

Joined IBM Japan Corporation

1989 Named Director of Development for portable PCs and notebook PCs (ThinkPad)

1994 Promoted to IBM Senior Technical Staff Member

1997 Promoted to Distinguished Engineer

1998 Promoted to IBM Academy of Technology Member

2001 IBM Fellow, Director of Portable Systems

2003 Assigned to IBM (U.S.)'s Personal Systems Group in North Carolina

Named Vice-President and Chief Technology Officer (CTO)

2005 Named Executive Vice-President of Lenovo Japan Corporation

2011 Named Vice-President, R&D, Lenovo Japan Corporation in January

English translation by Chris Nanjo, in  
collaboration with Liber Ltd.

