It's what we do between elections that truly shapes the future.
Driven by the allure of their “manifest destiny,” 19th-century settlers brought livestock – and an inadvertent ecosystemic upheaval – to what we now know as Yellowstone National Park. Encountering native predators, they sparked a clash between agricultural ambition and the region’s delicate ecosystem. As farms expanded, wolves, deprived of natural prey, turned to domestic animals. In response, humans embarked on a systematic campaign of predator control, employing a lethal combination of poisoning and hunting. Bears, cougars, and coyotes were also targeted in the effort to protect livestock and promote “more desirable” wildlife, such as deer and elk. By 1926, the wolves had been entirely eradicated from Yellowstone.
Problem solved, right? Wrong.
Without wolves to keep them in check, the elk population surged, setting off a cascade of unintended consequences. The burgeoning elk herds overgrazed young trees along riverbanks, leading to erosion. As the trees disappeared, so too did nesting sites for birds. The loss of trees also decimated the beaver population, which in turn meant no dams to regulate stream flow. The exposed waters grew warmer, leading to a decline in fish populations. In short, the entire river ecosystem suffered, transforming in ways few could have predicted.
For decades, the ecosystem continued to deteriorate. It wasn’t until 1995 – in the face of significant skepticism – that biologists began considering the idea of reintroducing wolves to Yellowstone. Transported in what could only be described as the ecological equivalent of “the Beast,” eight gray wolves from Jasper National Park in Alberta, Canada, made a celebrated return. Now, three decades later, the still-unfolding cascade of knock-on effects is nothing short of remarkable. Willow stands along streams, once in dire straits, are now thriving, even with elk populations at three times their 1968 numbers. Why? The wolves' predatory pressure keeps elk on the move, preventing them from lingering long enough to devastate tree populations. Where there was just a single beaver colony in 1995, there are now more than nine, with even more expected to emerge.
As we learn through frameworks like Balanced Scorecards and Diagnostic Control Systems in FRC, every action has both direct and unintended consequences. The removal and reintroduction of wolves set off powerful chain reactions in opposite directions. But why does this matter? Yellowstone’s story vividly illustrates Systems Thinking: the idea that everything is interconnected, often in ways that only reveal themselves over time. A single action, or inaction, ripples through a complex web of feedback loops, like the butterfly effect from chaos theory. We saw this principle on a global scale during the pandemic, which exposed the fragility of the interconnected economy. The takeaway? From the Broken Window Theory to Warren Buffet’s philosophy of compounding success, the lesson is consistent: actions compound, creating outcomes that extend far beyond their initial intention.
Voting and the Complex System of Democracy
We recognize these effects in nature and in business. How often do we apply them to our role as citizens – particularly when it comes to voting?
As elections draw near, especially in 2024, many people around the world question whether their vote matters. They see dysfunction, corruption, and gridlock and begin to wonder if casting their ballot will really make a difference. Political apathy has become a common sentiment in many democracies, where voters are left wondering: What’s the point?
The reality is that elections, like ecosystems or businesses, are essential nodes within a complex system. Every choice we make – or fail to make – reverberates far beyond election day. History is full of razor-thin election margins that changed the course of nations. Take the 2016 Brexit referendum as an example: a decision passed by a narrow margin (52% to 48%), yet its effects were immediate and sweeping. The UK’s departure from the European Union has upended its domestic politics and economy, impacting trade agreements, currency stability, and geopolitics globally. How different might the world look today if the vote had swung the other way?
This year alone, at least 64 national elections, plus those in the European Union, are scheduled to take place, covering nearly half of the world’s population. India, the world’s most populous country, held the largest election of the year, with nearly 12% of the global population voting over 44 days across one million polling stations. Vladimir Putin comfortably extended his stay in the Kremlin as he entered his fifth term as president, the UK voted in its first Labour Prime Minister after 14 years of Conservative rule, and France’s new Prime Minister has been tasked with uniting a politically fractured country after snap elections that led to a hung parliament. As the global paradigm evolves, it will be worth reflecting on these events in a few years: Did our current wars end? Did new conflicts emerge? As globalization continues to unravel, what unforeseen tensions and alliances lie in wait?
Beyond national elections, thousands of regional and local elections are also in motion. Though these may appear isolated in scope, the second order effects of local decisions will, over time, shape global policies on immigration, education, and healthcare, among others, ultimately impacting billions of lives. From the smallest town mayor to the leader of a major nation, each elected official is part of a larger system, just as each vote contributes to shaping that system's future.
But how is this globally interconnected political system structured? If the outcomes of elections reach as far as they seem, what are the inputs?
Understanding Our Role in a Fragile System
In many countries – including the U.S. – the concept of civic responsibility has all but vanished. Fewer and fewer of us see ourselves as active contributors to the system, as accountable for its successes and its failures. Even during the 2020 U.S. presidential election – boasting the highest voter turnout since 1900 – only about 66% of eligible voters cast their ballots. This figure, while an improvement, still placed the U.S. at 31st among OECD countries in terms of voter turnout, trailing behind nations like Indonesia, Turkey, and Peru. For the world’s great superpower, this disengagement signals a broader disconnect: many citizens view their governments as distant or irrelevant, far from the promise of a government “of the people, for the people, by the people.”.
While individual votes are singular actions with wide-ranging effects, to reduce societal outcomes to the actions of elected officials alone is to absolve ourselves of our shared responsibility. Casting a ballot, while crucial, is table stakes – it is what we do between elections that shapes our future. At their best, nations function as unifying systems that bring people together under shared values, culture, and institutions. Nations are fragile constructs that are powerless without their citizens – that’s what gives us true agency.
The seemingly mundane acts that sustain our communities – raising families, supporting local businesses, building trust – are what ultimately determine a nation's prospects. In this sense, a nation is the sum of its parts. The true work – the day-to-day labor that keeps a nation whole – happens not in brutalist buildings or capitals, but in our local communities. Nations are built bottom up, not top down.
What’s Old is New: Mexico’s Societal Debt
Nowhere is this breakdown more evident than in my native Mexico. Decades of accumulated “societal debt” – borrowing from LEAD – are pushing the country’s democracy toward collapse. Managerial debt, as Paul Nasr is acutely aware, refers to short-term decisions that avoid deeper structural fixes within a workplace context. Similarly, Mexico’s historical tendency to prioritize superficial solutions has built a system at risk of breaking down.
But why is it so difficult to fix? One reason is structural: it is inherently challenging for a country to think in decades and optimize for the long term when 42% of its population lives in poverty. Generations have grown up within systems where public trust is low, basic services are unreliable, and opportunities for upward mobility are limited. As a result, the instinct is often to prioritize short-term survival over long-term progress. When corruption, inequality, and weakened rule of law are the default conditions, the result is a country teetering on the edge of dysfunction. In short, people are fed up.
For decades, Mexico was known as the “perfect dictatorship” under the Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI) – a regime that maintained the appearance of democracy while manipulating the system from within. Today, Mexico’s democracy faces existential threats , with checks and balances eroding further under the ruling Morena party’s judicial reforms, which allow sweeping control over judicial appointments and convictions. This is, in many ways, a resurgence of the PRI in its most destructive form. The courts, though imperfect, remain the last line of defense against unchecked power, and their erosion signals a tipping point for the country’s rule of law. According to the think tank Impunidad Cero, 94% of crimes go unreported in Mexico, contributing to the abysmally low conviction rate of about 1%.
Claudia Sheinbaum’s rise to the presidency signals a potential turning point for Mexico. While Sheinbaum made history as Mexico’s first female president, her real challenge lies ahead. She now has the opportunity to cut the umbilical cord of political patronage that has defined Mexican politics since its inception. In a country where entrenched systems have long resisted reform, her leadership could set Mexico on a path toward genuine accountability and change. The question is: will she?
What, then, is our role in this mess? We are quick to list the failures of our institutions and the shortcomings of our leaders, yet slow to acknowledge our own hand in the country’s plight. Corruption has become a cultural norm. A friend who works in real estate once described bribes as a part of his company’s COGS (Cost of Goods Sold) – just another line item in the budget, as routine as paying for materials. This “cost” is inescapable, woven into the fabric of doing business in a society where “who you know” and “how much you can pay” are guiding principles. Hunter S. Thompson once wrote that “In a closed society where everybody's guilty, the only crime is getting caught.,” a sentiment that captures the reality that money, not merit, often determines one’s path. In every corner of society, from public offices to private ventures, knowing the right people is seen as insurance and often the only way to get things done. Bribes grease the wheels, whether to cut through red tape, dodge fines, or even secure medical treatment. This is the unspoken code, and as long as we subscribe to it, we are implicated in its persistence.
The cultural paradox runs deep: we cry out for justice, yet avoid accountability in our own actions. “I am a good, upstanding citizen,” people tell themselves, justifying their bribes as necessary responses to a broken system, only to express outrage when the latest politician is caught with offshore accounts and lavish homes. El buen juez, por su casa empieza – “charity begins at home,” or more literally, “a good judge begins with their own house” – is a well-known idiom, yet one too often ignored in practice. We are complicit in a system we claim to despise, fueling the very corruption we rail against.
When these practices become normalized, they hollow out the foundations of civic responsibility. We disengage, blaming “the system” and convincing ourselves that small acts of honesty won’t change anything. But systems are only as strong as their weakest parts. A decision to refuse a bribe may seem insignificant, but like the reintroduction of a single predator that transforms an ecosystem, one person’s integrity can set off unexpected ripples. When a nation’s survival depends on change, these small, collective actions are the building blocks of real progress.
Embracing Our Role
As Americans head to the polls next Tuesday, they should understand that their role within this vast system is more consequential than it may seem. Real change is not sparked by dramatic, headline-grabbing events, but through the steady accumulation of small, deliberate actions by those who recognize that their choices, however minor, ripple outward. This election may be critical, but it leads to a larger question: what comes next? The decisions we make – to vote, to speak up, to resist complacency – compound over time. Even the most damaged ecosystems can regenerate when each part acts with purpose. And so it is with societies: we are the system, and our choices are the foundations of the future we aspire to build.
Santiago Gil Gallardo (MBA '26) is originally from Mexico City. He graduated from Tecnológico de Monterrey with a degree in Industrial and Systems Engineering. Before HBS, he worked in venture capital at IGNIA and investment banking at a boutique firm in Mexico City.
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