Most of us treat government like a regular car. We argue over who should be in the driver’s seat—and spend time, money, and emotions trying to find the best possible driver. Someone strong. Someone smart. Someone with “good morals.” But we never ask the bigger question: why do we still need someone to drive the thing at all?
When we focus too much on the person in power, we ignore the machine they’re driving. We forget to check if the brakes work, if the steering is responsive, or if the destination even makes sense. This is the trap we fall into when we blur the lines between policies, politicians, and political parties. Everything becomes about personalities, and very little is about performance.
What if we flipped that? What if we built our governments like self-driving cars—systems designed to work no matter who’s sitting in the front seat? Ones that rely on logic, clear direction, and safety features, not charisma?
Here’s why that shift matters, and how we can get there.
Personality politics is a dead end.
Most people don’t separate policies from politicians or political parties. If you support a certain leader, you likely support everything they propose—without looking too closely. And if you dislike someone, you reject everything they say, even when it makes sense. You likely can’t tell me what’s in the Big, Beautiful Bill, but I bet you know the name of its sponsor.
This turns politics into theatre. We stop asking whether ideas are good and start obsessing over who suggested them. We expect heroes—and when they fail or step down, things collapse. Policies are dropped. Momentum dies. Leaders cling to power because they know the system can’t run without them. And citizens keep hoping the next one will finally get it right.
Weak systems make strongmen look necessary.
When everything rests on individuals, the entire structure becomes fragile. One scandal, one election, and it all resets. A good leader inherits a broken system and can’t fix it. A bad leader inherits a working system and breaks it.
This cycle keeps repeating. Because instead of building durable processes, we build narratives around personalities. We treat leadership like destiny. We give too much power, too much attention, and expect too much.
And when a leader starts believing they are the only one who can keep things running, they overstay. Power becomes survival—especially in places where the state is weak, and the leader becomes the state.
Systems should steer, not people.
What if we took all that focus on finding the right driver and used it to build a better car? A self-driving government would start with a clear destination. Not vague promises, but a shared national vision, based on data and consensus. And one that fits local realities—not borrowed from another country’s journey.
The road matters too. Right now, most ‘roads’ (especially in the Global South) are full of potholes—broken processes, outdated laws, unclear roles. If we want a smooth ride, we have to fix those. Strong institutions and consistent rules keep things steady, even when the leadership changes.
The car itself should be smart: able to detect risks, adjust when things go wrong, and move forward without needing hands on the wheel at all times. Just like good health systems prepare for outbreaks, good governments should prepare for disruption.
And finally, the driver becomes a monitor. Still important, but no longer central. Their job is to listen to the people, set direction, and let the system do its work.
How do we build a better machine?
We start with the basics: institutions that outlast individual leaders. Courts, civil service, electoral bodies—all of them built not around personalities, but to function no matter who’s in charge.
Secondly, we invest in data. You can’t fix what you can’t see, which is where policy informatics comes in. We need feedback loops and policy evaluations that actually guide change. Not reports that gather dust, but insights that shape decisions.
Third, we cut the red tape. Anyone who’s dealt with government paperwork knows how painful it is. If systems are slow or unclear, even good policies stall. We need simpler laws, clearer steps, faster delivery. That doesn’t start with tech—it starts with policy design.
Policies must be flexible too. What worked yesterday might not work tomorrow. We can’t wait for crises to force reforms—we must adapt the policy cycle in real time.
And lastly, the whole thing should run with minimal drama. Elections shouldn’t feel like a coin toss. If the system is strong, governments should just keep working in the background.
When governments (mostly) steer themselves, we all breathe easier.
A good system lowers the stakes. You’re not always one leader away from collapse. Corruption shrinks, because discretion shrinks. If a bad idea slips through, the system catches it. If someone cheats, it gets flagged.
Everything becomes more stable. Businesses know what’s coming. Public services don’t grind to a halt every four years. People can plan—families, farmers, founders. They stop waiting for heroes and start building futures.
Citizens start judging results, not personalities. Politicians come, serve, and leave with minimal drama. The car keeps moving.
We don’t need more strongmen—we need stronger systems.
Across the globe (especially in Africa), we’ve seen what happens when too much rides on one person. From Zimbabwe to Uganda, Senegal to Sudan—when that person exits, the cracks show. The institutions were never built to stand on their own.
That’s a fragile model. And it traps countries in cycles of disappointment, unrest, or complete apathy. Young people check out, trust erodes, and hope fades.
We need to flip the script—to stop chasing charisma and start building systems. To think like designers and ask: is this durable? Is it testable? Can it survive without a president holding it together?
The point isn’t to get rid of leaders, but to stop making everything depend on them. That’s how we become antifragile.
Stop building for the driver. Build for the journey.
We’ve spent too long treating governance like a talent show. But countries aren’t talent shows—they’re systems. And systems need solid roads, clear maps, and reliable engines.
If the car is sound, it doesn’t matter who’s behind the wheel. That’s the shift we need—to build processes that don’t collapse with every handover.
So I’ll leave you with this: are we building governments around personalities, or are we designing them to last? Because until we get that right, we’ll keep spinning our wheels—while the road ahead disappears.
Mo is the founder and CEO of Column, helping leaders shape public opinion through content and research. Connect with him on LinkedIn.
