What Happens After the Applause Fades Post-Launch?
This article is for the 20-something-year-olds who send me their pitches day in and day out. If I’ve already spoken to you, then you’ve already heard this before. Every industry has its rituals of spectacle. In business, that ritual is the launch. We pour energy into unveiling the minimum viable product, celebrating the award, or cutting the ribbon on a new office. Photographers capture the moment. Speeches are given. Sometimes there’s champagne. But beneath the confetti lies an uncomfortable truth: launches are the easy part. The harder, slower, quieter work begins after the applause fades. I have sat in offices where executives obsessed over the launch date as if it were destiny, and in village markets where farmers marked “first sales” with dancing and drums. Both moments mattered, but both were only beginnings. If we are serious about innovation, growth, and long-term transformation, we need to move our gaze from the spectacle of starting to the discipline of sustaining. That is the heart of post-launch: resilience. The Seduction of the Launch There’s something psychologically irresistible about launches. Humans are wired to love novelty. Neuroscientists have shown that the dopamine reward system in our brains spikes when we encounter something new, whether it’s a shiny phone, a bold idea, or even just a fresh headline. Media outlets know this. Investors too. Politicians cut ribbons not because concrete drying is newsworthy, but because audiences thrill at beginnings. This is why, across the globe, we celebrate MVPs (minimum viable products) as if they are fully fledged companies. It is why African tech hubs routinely generate more media for demo days than for five-year sustainability reports. And it is why entrepreneurs sometimes fall prey to the “founder hero” narrative, where the drama of ignition is treated as the whole story. It is not. But novelty is not the same as resilience. A launch without a maintenance plan is a short-lived firework: spectacular, yes, but fading into darkness just as quickly. The Mirage of the Launch History is littered with launches that dazzled and died. Consider Theranos in the United States. Its promise to revolutionise blood testing was celebrated with billion-dollar valuations and magazine covers. But beneath the surface, the post-launch discipline of peer review, maintenance of credibility, and incremental improvements was absent. What collapsed was not only a company but the trust itself. Closer to home, Africa has seen its share of high-profile launches that stumbled. Some governments have launched industrial parks with ribbon cuttings, only for machinery to rust months later because spare parts were never budgeted. Some start-ups dazzled investors with apps that attracted early downloads but failed to update their servers or adapt to user feedback. The “launch mirage” creates the illusion of progress, but without systems of learning and adjustment, it is simply that: an illusion. The financial world provides the starkest reminder. The 2008 crisis was triggered by instruments whose launches were celebrated on Wall Street as “innovations.” What followed was not resilience but collapse because the systems sustaining them were never stress-tested. Feedback Loops are Oxygen Resilience, by contrast, is sustained by feedback. In farming, you know that crops respond to rainfall differently each season. Farmers in Ghana’s northern regions adjust planting times not once, but continuously, as they observe weather changes. This is a feedback loop: observe, adapt, survive. In business, feedback loops serve the same purpose. Amazon’s entire empire rests not just on its launch as an online bookstore, but on its obsessive iteration. It tests relentlessly, gathering user data, refining logistics, tweaking algorithms. This is invisible to the public but vital to its survival. At Maxwell Investments Group, our networks of farmers thrive not because we launched contracts once, but because we maintain trust through constant recalibration: pricing updates, transparent communication, and swift adjustments when supply chains falter. Post-launch resilience is not a product but it’s a living conversation between system and environment. The Fragility of Forgetfulness Another enemy of resilience is forgetfulness. Institutional memory is often the first casualty of obsession with novelty. Africa offers sobering examples. Colonial governments built railways that spurred trade. But after independence, maintenance was neglected. Today, many of those tracks lie in disrepair, symbols not of progress but of the cost of forgetting. In corporate settings, the same pattern repeats. Leadership turnover wipes out lessons learned. Staff rotate, reports gather dust, and every new executive wants to “reinvent” the organisation. The absence of structured memory forces companies to repeat mistakes. At Maxwell Investments Group, we deliberately invest in documenting processes, creating playbooks, and cross-training teams. This is not glamorous work, and it rarely earns headlines. But it prevents fragility. It keeps wisdom alive even when people move on. The Resilience Dividend Why should anyone care about the slow grind of maintenance and feedback? Because resilience pays dividends that launches never can. Investors often look for signals of durability. A start-up that survives its first storm attracts more serious capital than one that dazzles at demo day. In fact, resilience itself becomes a form of collateral: proof that an enterprise will not collapse at the first sign of market turbulence. Consider Ghana’s cocoa sector. International buyers favour suppliers who can consistently deliver quality beans year after year, not just one harvest. That consistency commands premiums. The same is true in manufacturing, where the reliability of supply chains attracts global partners. The resilience dividend is both financial and reputational. Organisations known for post-launch stamina earn trust, and trust multiplies opportunity. Why We Celebrate Launches, Not Longevity And yet, despite this evidence, our culture continues to reward launches more than longevity. Why? Partly, it is novelty bias. Humans overvalue the new and undervalue the old. Media houses too are incentivised to cover fresh stories rather than long maintenance journeys. And capital markets often pressure leaders to show short-term wins rather than long-term stability. Even in awards ceremonies, categories for “Best Innovation” or “Most Promising Start-up” are far more common than categories celebrating a decade of quiet excellence. We lionise beginnings, not endurance. The
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