I remember nothing else about that movie except for a line from a minor character: he explained the reality that still characterized Japan in the mid-1800s.
“We Japanese are like a hand: it has multiple fingers, each separate from the other. But when an external threat arrives, the fingers tighten into a fist, becoming one and ready to strike!” He emphasized the concept by punching the air.
I think this fragment of history has stuck in my mind because I see something very different here at home.
Let me explain: how many times have we managed to come together, to form a fist?
How often have we been able to present ourselves as a country that builds boats, rather than as individual companies trying to find clients abroad?
For decades, the Dutch have been organizing tours where they invite international press to visit their shipbuilding facilities, one yard after another.
The Finns host journalists from all over the world to test dozens of boats—obviously from different shipyards—all moored in the same beautiful setting and usually with the yard owner or top management on board.
The result of these actions is to convey a unified message to the world: it doesn’t matter what you buy, which product you choose, but you know that if you buy Dutch or Finnish, as the case may be, you are placing your trust in a solid, reliable industry rooted in the culture and territory of the country.
And in the case of the Finnish event, they also promote their coasts as a tourist destination: after attending the FinnBoat Floating Show, I became an enthusiastic advocate of sailing in those waters.
We, on the other hand, are less inclined—or not inclined at all. Partly because of history: each of us has at least 800 years of municipal heritage, where even someone living just 10 km away was considered a foreigner.
But that wasn’t enough for us: we even invented the Palio, neighborhood against neighborhood—why bother leaving the city to find an enemy?
There’s also another factor that makes us avoid gathering together, even when doing so would achieve the critical mass needed to spark a reaction: a lack—or complete absence—of self-awareness.
Most shipbuilders, with the exception of the market leaders in terms of sales, have no idea who they are. They don’t know why their yard is different from the one next door at any given boat show.
In technical terms, this is called a lack of positioning, meaning they don’t know what they represent to their customer.
I’m afraid to admit that I can’t even explain why they should choose me over others—because often I don’t even know myself, aside from a vague “because we’re better” (but better for whom?).
“Know thyself”: this was inscribed on the Temple of Apollo at Delphi more than 2,000 years ago. Maybe it’s worth taking the advice?
And if you need help finding clarity, you can always schedule a free consultation by simply emailing info@lliquida.com.
Perhaps it’s time to decide whether to focus on beauty, intelligence, or charm—or, in industrial terms, design, functionality, or ease of use.
