For more than twenty years I have practiced Nihon Jiu Jitsu.
About ten years ago I earned my black belt, and today I hold a third degree black belt, which in most Nihon martial arts carries the title of Sensei.
Martial arts are often associated with strength, discipline and control.
Which is why Brené Brown’s work on vulnerability might seem unrelated at first glance.
Yet the more I reflected on both, the more I realised they point to the same leadership lesson.
Learning on the mat
After more than two decades of training, something slowly changes.
I am not as agile as I used to be.
When I was younger, speed and physical fitness compensated for many things. Today I rely more on timing, insight and a deeper understanding of the techniques. In some ways I am still improving. In other ways I am more aware of my limits.
The mat has a way of confronting you with reality.
When we teach students, we are very strict about the techniques we show. Everything we teach must work. In martial arts there is little room for theory that cannot be applied.
Experimentation happens mainly among the black belts. That is where techniques are explored, challenged and refined. It is also where assumptions can be tested and corrected.
Those moments can be uncomfortable.
But they are also where learning happens.
Bushido
Traditional Japanese martial arts are influenced by the philosophy of Bushido, the ethical code of the samurai.
Several virtues define it, but three resonate strongly with me.
Integrity means acting according to a clear ethical compass.
Respect means recognising the value of the person standing in front of you.
Loyalty means commitment to a shared purpose rather than individual gain.
These values shape behaviour in the dojo.
They also translate remarkably well to leadership.
Vulnerability
When I read Brené Brown’s book The Power of Vulnerability, one idea stayed with me.
Vulnerability is not weakness.
She describes vulnerability as uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure. Courage and vulnerability are closely connected.
The more I thought about it, the more familiar it felt.
Every time someone steps onto the mat they accept uncertainty.
Every time someone practices a technique they risk failure.
Every time someone allows themselves to be corrected they expose their weaknesses.
Improvement requires vulnerability.
A leadership moment
I was reminded of that lesson during a difficult leadership decision.
We were working on an important initiative and significant resources had already been invested. The expectation was clear. The organisation wanted progress and results.
But the deeper we went, the clearer it became that the foundation was not strong enough. Continuing along the same path would only create larger problems later.
The responsible decision was obvious. The easy decision was something else entirely.
In the end I pushed for what could best be described as a complete reset, a tabula rasa. It meant accepting that the timeline would move much further out than anyone wanted to hear.
You can imagine that this was not a popular message. But leadership sometimes requires choosing the uncomfortable truth over the convenient illusion.
Strength and vulnerability
Martial arts are often associated with toughness.
Leadership is often associated with confidence.
But both disciplines share the same underlying truth.
Strength without vulnerability easily becomes arrogance.
Vulnerability without strength becomes hesitation.
True leadership requires both.
After more than twenty years on the mat, one lesson keeps returning.
The moment you believe you have nothing left to learn is the moment you stop improving.
Bushido and modern leadership thinking meet in that exact place.
Both remind us that courage is not about appearing invulnerable.
It is about having the strength to face reality and adjust when necessary. Even when that reality is uncomfortable.
In the dojo we bow before stepping onto the mat.
Not just out of tradition, but as a reminder that learning requires humility.
Leadership might benefit from the same mindset.