A lot of companies acquire others without much sensitivity regarding what they’re really buying. They think they’re getting physical assets or manufacturing assets or intellectual property (in some industries, that’s more true than in others). In most cases, what they’re really acquiring is people. In a creative business, that’s where the value truly lies.

I think it would have been absolutely naïve—as well as dangerous—if I had come into a company as complex as IBM with a plan to import a band of outsiders somehow magically to run the place better than the people who were there in the first place. I’ve entered other companies from the outside, and based on my experience, you might be able to pull that off at a small company in a relatively simple industry and under optimal conditions.

What happened, however, is that we did neither. We saw two forces emerging in the industry that allowed us to chart a very different course. At the time, it was fraught with risk. But perhaps because the other alternatives were so unpalatable, we decided to stake the company’s future on a totally different view of the industry.

The implications of this kind of leap to a company’s economic model can be devastating. In IBM’s case it meant the collapse of gross profit margins and the attendant changes we had to engineer to lower our cost structure without compromising our effectiveness.

Yet the hardest part of these decisions was neither the technological nor economic transformations required. It was changing the culture—the mindset and instincts of hundreds of thousands of people who had grown up in an undeniably successful company, but one that had for decades been immune to normal competitive and economic forces.

In other words, acquisitions that fit within an existing strategy have the most likely probability of success. Those that represent attempts to buy new positions in new marketplaces or that involve smashing together two very similar companies are fraught with risk.