General

I’ve spent much of my professional life building systems in finance, agriculture, logistics, and insurance, where outcomes depend just as much on strategy as they do on leverage. Over time, I realised that what we call business strategy in commerce and what political scientists refer to as power in international relations are versions of the same underlying truth. That realisation partly led me to pursue a Master’s in International Relations at the University of Staffordshire. I want to understand the architecture of power, not only in markets but also in the world itself. The journey has introduced me to the school of thought known as classical realism, the view that power, not goodwill or treaties, is the organising principle of international life. It’s a framework that strips away illusion and forces a question uncomfortable but necessary for every business, government, or community: what do you actually control? The Roots of Realism Classical realism emerged in the ashes of failed idealism. The optimism of the post–World War I era, embodied by the League of Nations, had promised that cooperation and law would bring an end to war. Then came the 1930s with fascism, invasion, and collapse. To thinkers like E. H. Carr, this was not just tragedy; it was evidence that moral idealism without power is a luxury reserved for the strong. In ‘The Twenty Years’ Crisis’, Carr wrote that to ignore power as a decisive factor “is purely utopian.” He was not celebrating cynicism but rather warning against naivety. Carr’s insight feels strikingly relevant to modern institutions that confuse vision statements for actual power. Power is not arrogance. It’s the collection of tools and structures that make ideals enforceable. Whether in diplomacy or business, you can only act as far as your leverage reaches. Morgenthau and the Human Condition If Carr sounded the alarm, Hans J. Morgenthau built the philosophy. In ‘Politics Among Nations’ (1948), he argued that “politics, like society in general, is governed by objective laws that have their roots in human nature.” Humans, driven by fear, ambition, and the instinct for survival, create states that mirror those same instincts. In a world without a global government, states act much like individuals do when left to themselves; they pursue power to ensure their survival. Morgenthau defined power broadly: “anything that establishes and maintains control of man over man.” This includes force, persuasion, and prestige. It’s a relational force, not just a material one. The relevance to modern business is clear. Market share, information control, and trust are all forms of power. To manage any system, whether political or economic, is to understand those relationships of influence. Morality Through Power, Not Against It Carr’s most unsettling idea is that morality itself is born from power. “Law and morality in international politics,” he wrote, “are functions of power.” The powerful define norms because they can. The weak moralise because they must. This doesn’t mean morality is false; it means that moral codes only endure when anchored in strength. That lesson goes beyond geopolitics. Both businesses and nations often fail when they confuse intentions with actual capacity. A fair system must also be a strong one. In Ghana’s agricultural markets, for example, fairness to farmers only succeeds when supported by logistics, finance, and enforcement, which are all forms of structural power. In that sense, classical realism subtly underpins sustainable development itself. Prudence as the Realist Virtue Morgenthau regarded prudence as the highest virtue of leadership: the ability to choose the lesser evil over the unreachable good. This concept, developed amid the moral chaos following World War II, still shapes mature governance. The realist leader is not heartless. He is disciplined. He understands that idealism without realism breeds catastrophe. That same prudence sustains institutions. At Maxwell Investments Group, I have observed how businesses thrive when they avoid the temptation of instant success in favour of long-term resilience. Realism in politics and realism in enterprise share a core principle: restraint breeds longevity. Bartlett’s Cold War Lessons Historian C. J. Bartlett extended this thinking to the post-war order in ‘The Rise and Fall of the Pax Americana’ (1974). He noted that “the Americans could use power as realistically as any other state, [but] they used it less consistently and wholeheartedly.” In other words, even superpowers struggle with the tension between moral aspiration and pragmatic necessity. That same tension haunts leadership everywhere, whether in the corporate or government sectors. When we preach values but fail to establish systems that safeguard them, our credibility diminishes. Bartlett’s warning is equally relevant to multinationals that vow sustainability without governance frameworks to uphold it. The Invisible Infrastructure of Power What Carr and Morgenthau understood, and what many forget, is that power often hides in plain sight. It is not only held by armies and economies but also in trust, information, and reliability. Nations, like brands, rise or fall on credibility. When trust is broken, even the most powerful lose leverage. This “invisible infrastructure” explains why realism resonates with modern economics. A financial system relies on faith in regulations. Supply chains depend on mutual reliance. The loss of trust, as seen in the 2008 financial crisis, is ultimately a collapse of power, the power to assure continuity. Realism’s Modern Return Today’s headlines reflect the realist worldview. When Russia invaded Ukraine, when China secured mineral corridors across Africa, and when the U.S. fought for semiconductor dominance, these were not moral dramas but realist manoeuvres. Even the climate transition now follows realist logic: nations pursue sustainability not only to save the planet but to secure advantage in the emerging energy order. In this light, realism is not cynicism; it’s comprehension. It recognises that cooperation requires capability, and peace is upheld not by goodwill but by balance. The African Reading of Power For Africa, realism provides a framework for agency. In global negotiations, moral appeals alone are not enough. States need to build leverage through regional integration, infrastructure, and credible institutions. The African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA) is a realist project disguised as an idealist one; it is turning solidarity into

Some organisations don’t fail because they lack ideas. In fact, this is true for many startups. They fail because they are unable to process the ideas they already have. When we founded Maxwell Investments Group (MIG), we had far too many ideas. And we still do. Each one felt urgent: technology ventures, sustainability initiatives, social enterprises, financial products, tourism collaborations. All of them were good, all of them possible. But if we had chased every one of them at once, MIG would have collapsed under the weight of its own ambition. So we made a difficult choice: to focus. To shelve most of the ideas, not abandon them, but register them and keep them until the company could absorb them. We chose agribusiness as our foundation. It was practical, deeply connected to livelihoods, and gave us a stable base from which to grow. Even now, today today, I keep sketching new ventures and testing side projects, but I’ve learnt to release them slowly, at a pace the organisation can handle. It’s not about stifling creativity; it’s about protecting the current production line. Ideas alone don’t guarantee progress, but executing processed ideas does. What matters isn’t how many ideas you have, but how efficiently your organisation can absorb and execute them. That balance, between creativity and capacity, determines your survival. The Paradox of Plenty could ruin your start, no matter how well you take off. Of course, you need a million other things to also go well, but let’s focus solely on the throughput of ideas for this article. From Ideas to Throughput In MIG’s early years, I believed that creativity itself was progress. If we could dream it, we could make it happen. We still shout “NO LIMITATIONS” at the office. But creativity without control can become destructive. It’s like running too many machines on a single power line; the current drops, and everything flickers. Every organisation has a rhythm, a natural rate at which it can absorb new ideas and transform them into results. Exceed that rate, and progress stalls. That rhythm is what I now call the throughput of ideas. In manufacturing, throughput refers to how efficiently raw materials flow through a production system to become finished products. The same physics apply to strategy and innovation. Every new idea introduced into the system competes for time, attention, and energy. When too many pile up, progress doesn’t speed up; it stalls. The irony is that overload often feels like productivity. Everyone is busy. Whiteboards are full. Meetings buzz with potential. Yet, the busyness hides the truth: little is truly getting done. The real bottleneck in most organisations is its absorption capacity, the ability to turn intention into implementation, not imagination. Creative backlog can be just as dangerous as a production backlog. The Physics of Organisational Capacity Think of your organisation as a production line, except your raw material is human attention. Every new initiative consumes a portion of that finite resource. You can hire more people, but you cannot endlessly multiply focus. Leadership attention is often the tightest bottleneck. Launch too many projects at once, and the very people who need to make decisions are stretched too thin to make any. Systems thinkers refer to this as a capacity constraint. When a system surpasses its processing capacity, each additional input slows down everything else. That’s why large institutions often seem sluggish. It’s not because they lack ideas, but because their internal queues are overloaded. True strategic focus is about matching ambition to available bandwidth, not about shrinking ambition. It’s wiser to complete three strong initiatives than to juggle thirty that remain half-finished. At MIG, I now ask a simple question before approving something new: Can we realistically absorb this without slowing our core operations? If the honest answer is no, the idea goes into what I call the “cooler.” It’s not forgotten; it’s deferred until the system can handle it. The Discipline of Timing A brilliant idea can simply fail because it arrived too soon. Over time, I’ve learnt that innovation is about timing, not just about ideas or effort. The right idea, released too early, can do as much harm as the wrong one. Every organisation has a maximum rate of change. Push faster than people can adapt, and even good initiatives face resistance. The trick is to release ideas only as fast as your organisation can absorb them. This principle, which I call cadence, is the rhythm that unites creative systems. In agriculture, we understand seasons: planting, growth, harvest, rest. In business, the same cycle applies. But many leaders, in their eagerness to show results, skip the fallow period. They plant new initiatives before the old ones have taken root. Pacing innovation is also stewardship. It allows time for learning, feedback, and adaptation. A well-timed idea lands softly, gains traction, and compounds. Maybe, just maybe, patience is the most underrated innovation strategy of all. Building an Idea-Ready Organisation If ideas must be paced, the next question is how to increase the organisation’s capacity to absorb them. At MIG, I have learnt that growth doesn’t simply mean more departments or larger budgets. To me, it means building systems and teams capable of operating semi-independently. When decision-making is decentralised, new initiatives don’t all have to wait for a single executive bottleneck. I am learning to step back for the most part and teaching my team to follow and apply The MIG Way until I am required. That’s what I call building an idea-ready organisation. It’s a company structured for learning and experimentation without losing coherence. Toyota refers to this as ‘Kaizen’, the ongoing, incremental improvement woven throughout the system. Instead of top-down innovation initiatives, every team contributes minor enhancements daily. 3M, an American multinational conglomerate, has the well-known 15% rule, and Google employs the 20% policy. Both operate on the same principle: controlled freedom to explore within defined boundaries. Innovation scales best when structure and culture work together. Our systems must provide clarity, and our culture must provide curiosity. One without the other

In the busy streets of Accra, a young executive assistant enters a local waakye spot. Instead of paying immediately, she enters a code and chooses Credit, a Buy-Now-Pay-Later (BNPL) plan. The cost? Around 40 Ghana cedis, divided over four weeks. It’s a small amount for a simple meal. Yet, in that moment, we catch a glimpse of a quiet revolution reshaping urban life in Ghana. BNPL is now woven into everyday life. It’s no longer just for smartphones or cars; it’s financing school uniforms, groceries, and even basic health treatments. This shift is steadily changing the pace of city living and has given rise to non-banking credit and loan institutions. Admittedly, I run a microfinance enterprise myself, although I am not promoting it as much as my other businesses, yet (www.WellMaxCredit.com). So, believe me when I tell you, the moment people hear an interest rate twice the national GRR, it’s already a yes. Globally, the BNPL industry is expected to surpass US $560 billion in 2025 (FinTech Futures, 2025). In Africa, the model’s appeal is clear: low barriers to entry, mobile-first interfaces, and a generation increasingly comfortable with digital finance (Mastercard BNPL in Africa Report, 2024). However, with opportunity comes risk, and the stakes for African cities are uniquely high. Why BNPL is booming in African cities Three forces are driving the BNPL surge across the continent. Smartphone penetration Affordable devices and mobile internet have given millions access to digital marketplaces where BNPL is baked into checkout processes (Mastercard BNPL in Africa Report, 2024). Informal economies A large share of urban workers operate outside formal banking systems. BNPL offers them flexible, low-friction access to goods and services (McKinsey Informal Economy Trends Report, 2024). Cultural aspirations Rising urban populations, fuelled by a young demographic, are eager to access modern lifestyles, and BNPL makes aspirational spending feel attainable. Companies are tailoring BNPL models for local realities, targeting everything from laptops to fertiliser. Yet, beneath this innovation lies an uncomfortable truth: when we have to access our basic essential purchases through financing, it is a sign that the social fabric is under significant stress. The danger of normalising debt for survival Historically, credit served as a lever for investment, like financing a house, an education, or a business. Today, BNPL is increasingly used for essential spending: meals, work shoes, and utility bills. This shift is subtle but profound. It risks creating a new class of “credit-dependent citizens” whose monthly budgets are built on fragmented, deferred obligations. In Accra, informal surveys estimate that up to 30% of BNPL users have at least three concurrent instalment plans (McKinsey Informal Economy Trends Report, 2024). Many rotate repayments to stay afloat, effectively juggling micro-debts to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Without careful regulation and financial education, this could spiral into systemic fragility. I have discussed this with the Micro-Credit Association of Ghana. There is strong interest in exploring nationwide frameworks for responsible BNPL lending and linking it to broader financial inclusion goals. BNPL’s impact on urban resilience Why does this matter beyond individual households? It’s because financially vulnerable citizens weaken the economic resilience of entire cities. This erosion manifests in multiple, interconnected ways that quietly but decisively destabilise the foundations of urban life. Lower household savings When instalments consistently eat into future income, families are left with little or no capacity to absorb financial shocks. This leaves them vulnerable to emergencies and everyday fluctuations: a rise in food prices, a sick child, or a delayed salary. Over time, this erodes intergenerational wealth as parents struggle to save for their children’s education or invest in long-term goals. Weaker consumer confidence In an environment where BNPL obligations already fragment disposable income, consumer spending becomes reactive rather than strategic. People buy only what they need immediately, often in smaller quantities, which reduces bulk purchases and negatively impacts overall business margins. This volatility makes it more challenging for SMEs to forecast demand, manage inventory, or access credit effectively. Higher mental health burdens The emotional toll of juggling repayments, dodging defaults, and living under constant financial uncertainty is severe. Persistent financial anxiety is closely linked to depression, low self-worth, and in some cases, substance dependency (World Health Organization, 2024). As stress compounds, it can affect productivity at work, relationships at home, and even physical health. Reduced civic engagement Citizens trapped in a cycle of economic survival have reduced time and energy for community life, whether it’s volunteering, attending town meetings, or participating in local initiatives. This undermines social cohesion and trust, both of which are essential for stable, resilient urban environments. Urban fragility doesn’t begin with crumbling roads or traffic congestion. It begins with individuals forced to navigate daily life without the essential cushion of financial security. Cities flourish when people can plan, invest, and dream. Unchecked BNPL dependency transforms ambition into anxiety and undermines the fundamental concept of sustainable urban development. Policy interventions: Building healthy credit ecosystems BNPL is not inherently bad. It can be a powerful tool for inclusion if managed wisely. However, like any powerful tool, it requires guardrails, feedback loops, and a deep understanding of how it interacts with vulnerable communities. African regulators, FinTechs, civic leaders, and even educators must collaborate to shape an ecosystem that balances access with protection. Cap effective interest rates Some BNPL models mask high fees as “service charges.” These add up quickly, especially when users carry multiple loans. Transparency must be enforced. Clear legal definitions should distinguish between service fees and disguised interest. Policymakers should mandate disclosure of the total cost of credit, perhaps in local languages, using examples that reflect everyday purchases. Mandate plain-language contracts Contracts must be readable at a secondary school level and structured so that the most critical terms (interest rate, penalties, duration) appear upfront. A consumer should not need a lawyer to understand a loan agreement. Regulators might also explore using iconography and simplified “credit scorecards” so customers can compare offers like they do prepaid bundles. Integrate repayment data into credit bureaus A well-managed BNPL repayment history