When 150,000 Lost to 3,000: The Side That Moves with the Times Wins

Late one night, unable to sleep, I turned on the television and found a Japanese period drama.

I had not intended to watch it, but somewhere along the way it became strangely compelling, and I ended up staying with it.

The story was set in the late nineteenth century, during the final years of the Edo period. It covered the conflict known as the Choshu Expeditions, in which the regional Choshu Domain fought the Tokugawa shogunate, the government that had ruled Japan for more than 250 years.

It is a story Japanese people encounter repeatedly in school.

But when you stop and think about it, what happened was extraordinary.

A single regional domain fought the Tokugawa shogunate, which governed the entire country—and in the end, it was the shogunate that collapsed.

To force the comparison into modern American terms, imagine Texas rebelling against the federal government and going to war with the US military.

Then imagine that the government in Washington itself eventually falls.

On paper, there is no way Texas should win.

So how did anything like that happen?

Period dramas often frame it as a story of young people building a new age against an old and exhausted shogunate.

But I suspect the outcome was decided by something far less romantic.

Being Able to Give Orders Is Not the Same as Being Obeyed

During the Second Choshu Expedition, the shogunate ordered domains across Japan to mobilize and attack Choshu from several directions.

Estimates of the forces involved vary widely, but there is no doubt that the shogunate’s side greatly outnumbered Choshu.

Normally, that should have settled the matter.

Yet while the shogunate could still assemble troops, it had lost the power to make them fight with conviction.

By the end of the Edo period, the shogunate’s authority was already eroding. It had signed unequal treaties with Western powers, domestic politics was in turmoil, and the assumption that had held for 250 years—that following the shogunate would keep everyone safe—was beginning to collapse.

The shogunate could order the domains to attack Choshu.

But that did not mean the people receiving those orders were thinking, “I am willing to die for the Tokugawa shogunate.”

The same is true of large organizations today.

A company is not necessarily powerful simply because it has many employees. Having many departments does not necessarily give it the ability to execute.

The number of people on an organizational chart and the number who will genuinely move are not the same.

Choshu Changed Because It Lost

Choshu was not powerful from the beginning either.

In fact, it had already suffered a crushing defeat.

Clashes with Western fleets had shown it the overwhelming power of modern warfare, and it had also been forced to submit to the shogunate once before.

But that defeat became the trigger for military reform.

Rather than relying only on the traditional samurai class, Choshu created units that recruited across social ranks and aggressively adopted Western weapons and tactics.

Instead of preserving an ideal of how a samurai was supposed to behave, it prioritized what would actually produce victory.

In other words, Choshu’s strength did not come from having always been strong.

Its strength came from changing its methods after losing.

The larger an organization becomes, the harder this is to do.

It has methods that worked in the past, traditions, systems, and senior people who rose to power through those systems.

So even when the environment changes, it cannot let go of yesterday’s methods.

Small organizations lack resources, but they possess one advantage: they can abandon the past.

Choshu Even Joined Forces with a Former Enemy

Choshu was not isolated, either.

It formed an alliance with Satsuma, another powerful domain that had once been its enemy.

Satsuma kept its distance from the shogunate’s campaign against Choshu and also helped Choshu obtain weapons.

To continue the American analogy, imagine Texas fighting the federal government while California says, “I am not happy with Washington either,” and helps Texas procure arms.

Now the picture looks very different.

On the surface, it was still “the enormous shogunate versus tiny Choshu.” But allies were already drifting away from the enormous shogunate, while forces that had been enemies only yesterday were joining together on the other side.

The impressive number of troops attributed to the shogunate no longer reflected the organization’s real strength.

One Defeat Destroyed the Assumption That the Shogunate Was Strong

The shogunate’s failure to defeat Choshu easily meant more than a military setback.

Until then, Japan had operated on a basic assumption:

Whatever happens, the shogunate will win in the end.

It was a government that had endured for more than 250 years. It commanded domains across the country. Those who defied it were crushed.

And so everyone obeyed.

But once the fighting began, the shogunate proved unable to subdue even a single regional power with ease.

That raised a dangerous question:

Wait—could the shogunate actually be defeated?

The powerful are not powerful solely because of their capabilities.

Part of their power comes from everyone believing that they are powerful.

Once that confidence breaks, even yesterday’s allies begin to change their position.

The shogunate did not suddenly become weak.

One defeat simply allowed everyone to see that it had already become weak.

From there, the momentum shifted rapidly, and the Tokugawa shogunate itself disappeared after more than 260 years.

The Side That Moves with the Times Wins

I had started watching the period drama almost by accident, but the Choshu heroes were not what stayed with me most.

It was the Tokugawa shogunate.

Here was an enormous organization with overwhelming resources, a long history, established systems, and vast numbers of people.

It had won with those advantages until yesterday.

So it assumed it would win again today.

But while it was making that assumption, the environment had changed.

Its smaller opponent was using new weapons, building new forms of organization, and even joining forces with yesterday’s enemy.

The giant organization still tried to fight by the old rules.

Choshu was not larger than the shogunate.

Nor had Choshu always been stronger.

The conflict was between one side that changed itself to match a changing age and another that continued to believe in the strength it had possessed yesterday.

The side that moved with the times won.

The result is written in every Japanese history textbook.