Connecting Dots is the monthly newsletter for innovation leaders by Brett Macfarlane.

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Innovate or Die (of Irrelevance)

I sometimes dream I am a Kodak executive in 1975, being shown a working prototype of a digital camera. In the dream, a visceral sense of fear forms in my stomach. I am energized by the breakthrough—but also terrified, because it is clear I may be the only one who sees what it could destroy.

Around me, colleagues laugh. They are supremely confident in Kodak’s chemical-based model, certain it is enduring, certain their success will continue. Then, in a surreal twist, their business cards burst into flames, and a cold wind sweeps through the room, carrying them away like falling leaves.

The dream shifts.

Now I am in Tokyo, an executive at Fujifilm. We are shown a similar prototype. The reaction is different. There is curiosity, tension, debate. We explore possibilities, test assumptions, and sit with the discomfort. Eventually, our chairperson reframes the conversation:

“What if we are not a chemical company that produces images, but an imaging company that can use any process?”

The anxiety doesn’t disappear—but it becomes productive. I feel a sense of clarity, even optimism.

The dream is imagined. The paths are not.

Kodak’s story is well known. Less discussed is Fujifilm’s. Both held dominant positions in film photography. Both faced the same disruptive force. Yet where Kodak resisted, Fujifilm redefined itself—expanding into healthcare, document systems, and industrial applications, using both chemical and digital technologies to serve broader imaging needs.

They treated disruption not as a threat to deny, but as a signal to evolve.

At the core of this difference was an ability to operate in two modes simultaneously: efficiency and adaptability.

Too often, organizations treat these as opposing forces, managed in isolation. In reality, they are interdependent. Efficiency drives scale, reliability, and profitability. Adaptability enables exploration, learning, and reinvention. Both involve innovation—but at very different levels of uncertainty.

The leadership challenge is not choosing between them. It is knowing when and how to move between them—and when to sustain both.

Exploration must eventually become execution. Experiments must translate into repeatable value. At the same time, even the most successful “efficient” systems will age. Every advantage erodes. Every “golden goose” requires renewal.

Many organizations struggle with this transition in both directions.

For example, some banks embed adaptability within their core teams—allocating a portion of their roadmap to continuous, incremental improvement through a “forever in beta” mindset. Others separate the effort: maintaining a stable core while building a parallel team tasked with reimagining the future over a two- to three-year horizon—the “art of the possible.”

I have seen both approaches firsthand. At Barclays, we deployed both approaches across different products and federated functions, contributing to industry-leading customer satisfaction and strong commercial outcomes. More recently, HSBC has pursued large-scale transformation through a centralized model—advancing interoperability, design clarity, product structure, and intelligent services to strengthen its global position.

Both models can work. What matters is intentionality.

What concerns me today is how many leaders are defaulting to Kodak logic.

Not because they are unaware of change. Most are actively tracking trends and technologies. The issue is more subtle: complacency about the pace and inevitability of disruption, and underinvestment in the capability to respond adaptively.

The real choice is not stability versus innovation.

It is rigidity versus adaptability.

Leaders who can operate efficiently while thinking adaptively are better positioned to capture new opportunities and avoid being caught unprepared when the market shifts. Because every strategy works—until it doesn’t.

And when that moment comes, the cost is not just organizational. It is personal.

I have spoken with executives and board members who lived through Kodak’s decline in the 1980s and 1990s. Many describe the same tension: the pressure to meet near-term expectations, the awareness—sometimes faint, sometimes clear—that change was needed, and the decision to delay.

They reflect not just on missed opportunities, but on the weight of having chosen continuity over courage.

This is why the Fujifilm story matters more.

It shows that reinvention is possible. That disruption can be a catalyst, not a catastrophe. And that innovation is not a one-time act—it is an ongoing discipline, shaped by your role, your context, and your willingness to adapt.

Relevance must be continually earned and is easily eroded. Most painfully, no matter how big your bank account, irrelevance wounds worse than failure.

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Questions, reflections and feedback to info@brettmacfarlane.com