In the shiny corridors of global boardrooms, the influence of Western business education—particularly the Ivy League variety—is undeniable. Armed with case studies, data-driven models, and frameworks like Porter’s Five Forces or the BCG Matrix, graduates from institutions like Harvard Business School are considered the ultimate problem-solvers. But what happens when these "solutions" fail to resonate in the chaotic, resource-strapped markets of the developing world? Enter jugaad—an Indian term that represents frugal innovation, flexible thinking, and the ability to do more with less.
Jugaad is not a theory taught in the classroom. It's a way of life that emerges from necessity, not textbooks. In countries like India, Nigeria, and Brazil, entrepreneurs often face unreliable infrastructure, bureaucratic red tape, and limited capital. Yet, they survive—and often thrive—by using creative, context-based solutions. This mindset doesn’t fit neatly into PowerPoint slides or KPI dashboards. It’s agile, improvised, and inherently local.
The problem arises when Western-trained managers, brought in to “professionalize” or “scale” these operations, fail to understand the nuanced genius behind local practices. To them, jugaad looks like a shortcut or even a liability. They might question its scalability, legality, or lack of formal structure. But what they miss is its core strength: adaptability.
Consider the case of mobile banking in Africa. While banks in the West were busy optimizing online platforms, local innovators in Kenya created M-Pesa, a mobile money service that operates without the need for smartphones or bank accounts. No MBA program taught this. It was a response to a specific local need, using whatever was available—pure jugaad.
The clash becomes more pronounced when Western MBAs are placed in leadership roles over local teams. Their playbook, built on global best practices, often ignores local realities. Efficiency is prioritized over empathy, standardization over spontaneity. The result? Alienated employees, misaligned strategies, and failed market entries.
On the other hand, local entrepreneurs are increasingly proving that their homegrown approaches are not only valid but often superior in complex, high-uncertainty environments. They understand the informal networks, the unspoken rules, the cultural subtleties that no case study can teach. And yet, they rarely get a seat at the global strategy table.
This isn’t a call to discard Western business education. Its analytical rigor and structured thinking have immense value. But it is a call to rethink what “global management” really means. True global leadership doesn’t just export ideas—it listens, adapts, and respects indigenous knowledge systems.
To build resilient, inclusive companies in the global South, it's time to move beyond the assumption that Western credentials equal competence. The next era of business will belong not just to those with elite degrees, but to those who can bridge boardroom theory with back-alley reality. And until Harvard starts teaching jugaad, maybe it’s the locals who should be leading the lesson.
Jugaad is not a theory taught in the classroom. It's a way of life that emerges from necessity, not textbooks. In countries like India, Nigeria, and Brazil, entrepreneurs often face unreliable infrastructure, bureaucratic red tape, and limited capital. Yet, they survive—and often thrive—by using creative, context-based solutions. This mindset doesn’t fit neatly into PowerPoint slides or KPI dashboards. It’s agile, improvised, and inherently local.
The problem arises when Western-trained managers, brought in to “professionalize” or “scale” these operations, fail to understand the nuanced genius behind local practices. To them, jugaad looks like a shortcut or even a liability. They might question its scalability, legality, or lack of formal structure. But what they miss is its core strength: adaptability.
Consider the case of mobile banking in Africa. While banks in the West were busy optimizing online platforms, local innovators in Kenya created M-Pesa, a mobile money service that operates without the need for smartphones or bank accounts. No MBA program taught this. It was a response to a specific local need, using whatever was available—pure jugaad.
The clash becomes more pronounced when Western MBAs are placed in leadership roles over local teams. Their playbook, built on global best practices, often ignores local realities. Efficiency is prioritized over empathy, standardization over spontaneity. The result? Alienated employees, misaligned strategies, and failed market entries.
On the other hand, local entrepreneurs are increasingly proving that their homegrown approaches are not only valid but often superior in complex, high-uncertainty environments. They understand the informal networks, the unspoken rules, the cultural subtleties that no case study can teach. And yet, they rarely get a seat at the global strategy table.
This isn’t a call to discard Western business education. Its analytical rigor and structured thinking have immense value. But it is a call to rethink what “global management” really means. True global leadership doesn’t just export ideas—it listens, adapts, and respects indigenous knowledge systems.
To build resilient, inclusive companies in the global South, it's time to move beyond the assumption that Western credentials equal competence. The next era of business will belong not just to those with elite degrees, but to those who can bridge boardroom theory with back-alley reality. And until Harvard starts teaching jugaad, maybe it’s the locals who should be leading the lesson.