Why Kenyans Win Marathons And Estonians Build Unicorns

Why does excellence seem to gather in certain places? It felt like almost like magical realism when I picked up Anirudh Krishna’s Why Kenyans Win Marathons and Estonians Build Unicorns, a dazzling shape-shifting work of meta nonfiction. I must confess the title itself, almost like a riddle, sparked a sense of wonder and a restless curiosity.

Why do so many of the world’s best long-runners come from Kenya? How does Estonia, with a population of barely 1.3 million, produce Unicorns such as Skype and Bolt? Why have so many distinguished writers emerged from Nigeria, classical musicians from Venezuela, school teachers from Finland, elite female golfers from South Korea and wrestling champions from Haryana in India? What lies behind this striking concentration of excellence? Are these patterns of excellence shaped by genetics, geography, historical legacy, culture, population size or sheer public policy or some elusive combination of all of them? Or is excellence simply the outcomes of divine luck? Or is there something Karmic about where talent takes root? Or do what we call destiny and geniuses emerge from forces that are far more earthy, social and replicable.

It is here Krishna provocatively dismantles familiar clichés and myths about genius and merit. In simple yet disarming way, he shifts the focus from why some individuals become exceptional to why particular societies create the conditions in which exceptional people emerge and flourish in certain fields. Drawing on examples from genetics, sports, entrepreneurship, civil services, teaching, literature, music and case studies from various parts of the world, Krishna argues that “flows of excellence are not unique to any historical legacy, ethnic group, geographic location or political system. They have emerged around the world, in countries large and small, rich and poor, in cold climates and warm ones, among people of widely differing belief systems and skin tones”.

And here is a surprise for politicians in India if they are listening. Excellence is neither elitist nor family-owned. As Krishna wryly observes, “there are no running dynasties in Kenya or Jamaica. No champion’s child is a champion runner’. Talent must find its way through universal, equal-opportunity enterprise, mass participation, competition, role models, coaching and repeated opportunities without fear of failure to discover potential. Families and parents may be supportive, yet they cannot manufacture talent or guarantee success.

If Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers foregrounded family, culture and opportunity including illusory timing and David Epstein’s The Sports Gene explored biology and environment, Krishna has posed a riddle like an oracle whispering a larger mystery. Why do some societies or places repeatedly produce exceptionally talented people while others do not? Using seven design principles of excellence including open-access systems, society-wide support, an unbroken flow from grassroots to the highest level and a productive mix of collaboration and competition, Krishna develops his thesis of a “a ladder of opportunity”.

The Larger Ecosystem

At the top stands the Olympic champion, successful entrepreneur or celebrated artist. Beneath them lies a much larger ecosystem of participants, teachers, coaches, families, institutions and competitions. The question is not simply how to identify the next champion, but how to build the ladder that gives potential champions a chance to climb. Krishna’s discussion of Haryana’s wrestlers shows how ‘flows of excellence’ can emerge from a deeply-rooted ecosystem involving the akhara, families, coaches, community support, peer competition and visible champions, especially women, despite deeper structures of patriarchy.

In other words, talent is not born. It is surfaced, tested and cultivated. Thus, it is equally important to note as to what happens to those who do not reach the top. Krishna takes an issue seriously often dismissed in our fast-emerging, consumerist culture of talent. A society that produces excellence cannot be one in which only winners matter. It needs alternative pathways, second chances or what he poetically calls “soft landings”. The Kenyan runner who does not make the Olympic team can become a coach or mentor. A Nigerian writer who does not find immediate recognition can find alternative avenues to develop a literary career in publishing or blogging. There is always another path through which talent can continue to grow and flourish.

But if you are beginning to think this is all rather hunky-dory, a little close to a utopia of talent, Krishna has a darker surprise for you. If democratic South Korea has produced a flow of world-class female golfers, authoritarian North Korea has produced elite hackers such as Park Jin Hyok, Jon Chang Hyok and Kim Il, who are unlikely to be extradited and remain among the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s most-wanted international cybercriminals. How does this happen? South Korea built a ladder of opportunity for golfers with a hierarchy of tournaments through which young talent could enter, compete, and rise. North Korea built its own ladder for hacking, beginning with specialised schools for children with exceptional mathematical ability, leading to colleges focused on coding, international competitions, advanced training overseas and eventually a place within the military elite.

The unsettling point is that the machinery of excellence does not ask whether its outcomes are admirable or immoral. It simply makes exceptional ability possible. And here I find myself puzzled. Can talent itself be morally agnostic? If so, where do we draw the line? Could the same logic extend to criminal gangs, scamsters or other anti-social groups that develop extraordinary skills through their own ladders of recruitment, training, competition and advancement? It is a troubling question and perhaps one that Krishna’s framework does not fully confront. Further, while Haryana’s wresters or Manipur’s women boxers offer a remarkable illustration of Krishna’s thesis, India presents a larger contemporary puzzle for the idea of “flows of excellence”. It has built globally renowned start-ups such as Paytm, Zomato, Swiggy, Nykaa, Groww, OYO, CRED, along with UPI, one of the world’s most impressive digital payment systems. Yet India remains some distance from Estonia in creating a seamless innovation ecosystem for universal Unicorns.

Framework Points

What explains this gap? Krishna’s framework points to the quality of the ladder rather than the quantity of talent. India has no shortage of talent, ambition or entrepreneurial energy, yet too many successes remain “islands of excellence” rather than broad, replicable systems. Estonia’s advantage may lie less in talent than in the low-friction pathways that allow talent to connect, compound and scale. India has shown through UPI that it can build such systems. The question is why this institutional ease has not spread more widely. This is where the “ladder of opportunity” becomes a question of public policy. In India, we are almost obsessed with celebrating winners, whether students who enter the Indian Institutes of Technology, the Indian Institutes of Management or candidates who clear civil services, placing them on a divine pedestal as if success were a sign of genius.

Krishna asks us to look before the spotlight, at the child who needs a playground, the athlete a coach, the entrepreneur a network rather than bureaucratic harassment and the young women an institution where she can compete without fear. Perhaps the most provocative question for India is this. Will our islands of excellence remain islands, or become bridges and ladders for millions more as India moves towards 2047?

(The author is a poet, political scientist and now a Senior Visiting Fellow at the Centre for Policy Research, New Delhi)

(Views expressed are personal)