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By:

Divyaa Advaani 

2 November 2024 at 3:28:38 am

When agreement kills growth

In the early stages of building a business, growth is often driven by clarity, speed, and conviction. Founders make decisions quickly, rely on their instincts, and push forward with a strong sense of belief in their methods. This decisiveness is not only necessary, it is often the very reason the business begins to grow. However, as businesses cross certain thresholds, particularly beyond the Rs 5 crore mark, the nature of growth begins to change. What once created momentum can quietly begin...

When agreement kills growth

In the early stages of building a business, growth is often driven by clarity, speed, and conviction. Founders make decisions quickly, rely on their instincts, and push forward with a strong sense of belief in their methods. This decisiveness is not only necessary, it is often the very reason the business begins to grow. However, as businesses cross certain thresholds, particularly beyond the Rs 5 crore mark, the nature of growth begins to change. What once created momentum can quietly begin to create limitations. In many professional environments, it is not uncommon to encounter business owners who are deeply convinced of their approach. Their methods have delivered results, their experience reinforces their judgment, and their confidence becomes a defining trait. Yet, in this very confidence lies a subtle risk that is often overlooked. When conviction turns into certainty without space for dialogue, conversations begin to narrow. Suggestions are heard, but not always considered. Perspectives are offered, but not always encouraged. Decisions are made, but not always explained. From the outside, this may still appear as strong leadership. Internally, however, a different dynamic begins to take shape. People start to agree more than they contribute. This is where many businesses unknowingly enter a critical phase. When teams, partners, or stakeholders begin to hold back their perspective, the quality of thinking around the business reduces. What appears as alignment is often silent disengagement. What looks like efficiency is sometimes the absence of challenge. Over time, this directly affects the decisions being made. At a Rs 5 crore level, this may not be immediately visible. Operations continue, revenue flows, and the business appears stable. But as the organisation attempts to grow further, this lack of diverse thinking begins to surface as a constraint. Growth slows, not because of lack of effort, but because of limited perspective. On the other side of this equation are individuals who consistently find themselves accommodating such dynamics. They recognise when their voice is not being fully heard, yet choose not to assert it. The intention is often to preserve relationships, avoid friction, or maintain a sense of professional ease. Initially, this approach appears collaborative. Over time, however, it begins to shape perception. When individuals do not express their perspective, they are gradually seen as agreeable rather than essential. Their presence is valued, but their input is not actively sought. In many cases, they become part of the process, but not part of the decision. This is where personal branding begins to influence business outcomes in ways that are not immediately obvious. A personal brand is not built only through visibility or achievement. It is built through how consistently one demonstrates clarity, confidence, and openness in moments that require it. It is shaped by whether people feel encouraged to think around you, or restricted in your presence. At higher levels of business, this distinction becomes critical. If people agree with you more than they challenge you, it may not be a sign of strong leadership. It may be an indication that your environment is no longer enabling better thinking. Similarly, if you find yourself constantly adjusting to others without expressing your own perspective, your contribution may be diminishing in ways that affect both your influence and your growth. Both situations carry a cost. They affect decision quality, limit innovation, and over time, restrict the scalability of the business itself. What makes this particularly challenging is that these patterns develop gradually, often going unnoticed until the impact becomes difficult to ignore. The most effective leaders recognise this early. They create space for dialogue without losing direction. They express conviction without dismissing perspective. They build environments where contribution is expected, not avoided. In doing so, they strengthen not only their business, but also their personal brand. For entrepreneurs operating at a stage where growth is no longer just about execution but about expanding thinking, this becomes an important point of reflection. If there is even a possibility that your current interactions are limiting the quality of thinking around you, it is worth addressing before it begins to affect outcomes. I work with a select group of founders and professionals to help them refine how they are perceived, communicate with greater impact, and build personal brands that support sustained growth. You may explore this further here: https://sprect.com/pro/divyaaadvaani In the long run, it is not only the decisions you make, but the thinking you allow around those decisions, that determines how far your business can truly grow. (The author is a personal branding expert. She has clients from 14+ countries. Views personal.)

Japan’s Iron Lady

Sanae Takaichi’s rise as Japan’s first female Prime Minister shatters a glass ceiling but cements the conservative foundations beneath it.

In a country where patriarchal tradition has long dictated the boundaries of public life, Sanae Takaichi’s ascent to Japan’s premiership is a moment of striking symbolism. For young Japanese women, the image of a woman leading the nation evokes the tantalising promise of change. Yet for all its historic resonance, her victory also underscores a paradox: Japan’s first female Prime Minister may be among its most conservative leaders in decades.


Born in Nara and known for her no-nonsense demeanour, Takaichi, 64, has long modelled herself after Margaret Thatcher. Like her British idol, she relishes toughness, discipline and ideological clarity. Her campaign speeches bristled with language about “duty” and “hard work,” culminating in her declaration to parliament: “I will work, work, work.” To her admirers, she embodies the resilience Japan needs in an era of sluggish growth and demographic decline. To her critics, she personifies a leader who, whilst breaking the ultimate glass ceiling, has only reinforced the walls beneath it.


Her rise comes at a time when the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), which has governed Japan almost uninterrupted since 1955, faces internal disarray and public distrust. The party’s old guard, steeped in factionalism and money politics, was battered by the recent slush-fund scandal that forced Shigeru Ishiba to resign. The departure of Komeito, the LDP’s centrist coalition partner, further weakened the government. Takaichi’s election, backed by the right-wing base and bolstered by an alliance with the populist Japan Innovation Party (JIP), was thus both a necessity and a gamble. It was meant to consolidate the conservative bloc and prevent further drift toward Japan’s nationalist fringe.


Fierce Nationalist

The parallels with Thatcherism extend beyond tone. Like Thatcher, Takaichi champions small government, fiscal discipline and a muscular nationalism. She has argued for revising Japan’s pacifist constitution, originally drafted under American occupation, to grant the Self-Defence Forces the explicit right to act militarily abroad. In this, she reflects the LDP’s long-standing ambition to ‘normalise’ Japan’s defence posture amid an increasingly assertive China and an unpredictable North Korea.


Since the Meiji era, the Japanese state has fused nationalism with patriarchal family norms, encapsulated in the ideal of ‘ryōsai kenbo’— the ‘good wife, wise mother.’ Post-war reforms under American occupation formally granted women the right to vote and work, but corporate culture and social expectations kept most women tethered to the domestic sphere. Even today, women make up less than 15 percent of managerial positions and only around 10 percent of parliamentarians. The LDP, dominated by elderly male politicians, has done little to change this. Takaichi’s rise, paradoxically, was enabled not by a feminist wave but by the party’s internal arithmetic and the vacuum of credible conservative leadership.


Her premiership also speaks to broader geopolitical anxieties. Japan faces an increasingly hostile neighbourhood: Chinese naval incursions around the Senkaku Islands have become routine; North Korea continues to fire missiles over the Sea of Japan; and America’s security commitment, though reaffirmed under Joe Biden, remains shadowed by uncertainty. At home, an ageing electorate and stagnant wages fuel discontent. Takaichi’s call to “rebuild Japan through hard work” taps into nostalgia for the post-war decades when Japan’s industriousness powered its rise as an economic superpower. But such rhetoric may fall flat in a society where overwork has already taken a toll.


Internationally, Takaichi’s ascent could mark a rightward shift in Japan’s diplomacy. She is likely to maintain close ties with Washington but take a firmer line on Taiwan, aligning Japan more closely with the United States and Australia in their Indo-Pacific security agenda. Her scepticism toward China’s economic influence may lead to a cooling of relations that are already strained by territorial disputes and trade frictions. Domestically, however, her minority government will have to navigate a fractious Diet, where the LDP-JIP alliance remains two seats short of a majority.


In many ways, Takaichi’s leadership reflects Japan’s uneasy relationship with modernity: a society eager for renewal but wary of altering its foundations. Like Thatcher, she may prove transformative, but whether she transforms her country’s gender order or merely reinforces it remains to be seen. 


In the end, Japan’s first “Iron Lady” offers both inspiration and caution. She shatters a barrier but embodies the conservatism that built it. Her tenure will test not just her stamina but Japan’s ability to reconcile its reverence for tradition with the imperatives of change.


(The author is a researcher and expert in foreign affairs. Views personal.)

 

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