What Honda Can Teach Us About Innovation in Ophthalmology

Americans were going wild for motorcycles in the late 1950s. Across the globe, in a conference room in Tokyo, a group of Honda executives made the seemingly-logical decision to enter the booming U.S. motorcycle market.

Honda’s success in America has long been chalked up to strategic genius. But what unfolded next wasn’t the result of brilliant foresight or strategic perfection. It was something more honest—and more useful to us in ophthalmology today.

The Myth of the Master Plan

In Honda’s standard retelling, they launched their lightweight, affordable Super Cub with surgical precision, targeting new riders and quickly dominating the low-end of the market.

But according to Richard Pascale’s landmark Harvard Business Review analysis, that narrative is mostly myth.

Honda originally launched in the U.S. with large, fast bikes. They planned to compete head-to-head with established brands like Harley-Davidson through a traditional distribution model. But the big bikes weren’t well suited for American roads, they overheated in traffic, and the company lacked brand recognition. The initial rollout flopped.

Then something odd happened.

Field reps began using small Super Cub bikes for their personal runs around Los Angeles. These lightweight bikes designed for errands in Tokyo traffic drew unexpected attention in the American city. Local shopkeepers and passersby wanted one. The team started selling them quietly.

Soon, demand snowballed. Sales outpaced Honda’s goal of 1,000 motorcycles per month in 1961 and grew from there. By 1963, Honda had sold over 100,000 motorcycles.

When Honda’s original strategy dissolved, they pivoted. Fast. Their success came from improvisation, humility, and listening to the customer.

Emergent Strategy in Real Life

Most of us create strategies defined by what we think will work, but our actual success often comes from learning, adjusting, and staying open. In his book, How Will You Measure Your Life?, Clayton Christensen identifies Honda’s pivot as a textbook example of emergent strategy.

Christensen’s advice for those hoping to succeed is simple: Don’t fall in love with your plan. Fall in love with your ability to learn.

That should sound familiar to anyone who’s implemented a new dry eye technology, built a call center, or tried to educate patients about the differences between premium IOLs.

In ophthalmology, we often assume innovation requires certainty. But more often, it requires agility. It’s not the first idea that wins. It’s the second, third, or fourth that emerges from failure and observation.

The Role of Agile Optimism

Honda’s willingness to shift their strategy shows us the benefit of approaching challenges as signals to adapt, not signs of failure. Behavioral psychologist Nick Tasler calls this agile optimism. 

His emphasis is not just on strategic pivots, but emotional ones, including the ability to remain hopeful when things fall apart.

This matters in medicine more than we often admit. Whether you’re launching a new patient education platform or convincing your team to adopt AI scribes, the first try might flop. But if you’re looking, listening, and not too proud to adjust, you may find a better approach.

The Lesson for Eye Care Leaders

So what does this mean for us?

Success can’t be measured by how closely we stick to our original growth strategy. If the plan isn’t working, it’s time to change it. Begin to build processes to test your assumptions and gather accurate data.

For the ASC administrator planning to add MIGS procedures but facing resistance from surgeons: try a pilot with one enthusiastic MD and document outcomes.

For the marketing director struggling to fill premium cataract slots: don’t double down on what isn’t converting. Start interviewing patients who said no and listen to their hesitations.

For the practice leader building a second location: hire people who can handle ambiguity, not just those who’ve “done it before.”

From Super Cub to Super Strategy

It’s tempting to look at success stories and feel like we’re missing the tidy blueprint that others had. But Honda’s path reminds us that the truth is messier. It’s also more hopeful.

We don’t need a perfect strategy to move forward. We just need a willingness to learn and the humility to shift our plans.

Try This Today

Take a cue from Honda and identify an assumption you’ve built into your strategic plan. It could be something like “My patients choose option A for their procedure because it’s familiar to them” or “Setting up an appointment is easy for our patients.”

Test out your theory. Ask questions to get to the root of your patients’ decision making. Trial things like your scheduling system from the patient’s side. And when you find something that counters your original belief, embrace it. A better plan is waiting for you to uncover it.