Imagine the scenario: after months (in some cases even years) of sacrifice and thousands of hours of training, you are finally at the start of an IRONMAN race (3.8 km swim, 180 km bike, and 42 km run). On the bike course of the famous Ironman in Hamburg, however, between the 155th and 165th kilometer, you are stopped by a flat tire. Not because of a stray thorn, but because of a piece of metal. You look around and you are not alone – hundreds of competitors with punctured tires are standing by the side of the road. You realize that fixing it is impossible, so you grit your teeth and walk 17 kilometers to the transition area in your cycling shoes, with a full marathon still ahead of you from there on.

Pressures in today’s world are everywhere and in business — perhaps even more so than ever, though we often do not even notice them anymore. We are all constantly exposed to the possibility of having to make decisions by evening. If you are sincere, you can wish someone all the best for their birthday in the morning, send them off from the company by afternoon (or even worse), and by evening already be preparing everything needed to replace them.

Local elections are often unjustifiably perceived as less important than parliamentary ones—as second-rate, as an afterthought. In reality, however, it is precisely at the local level that we most directly shape the quality of our everyday lives. We are not deciding only on paper; we are deciding about four years that we live every day—when we turn on the tap, take a child to kindergarten, sit in traffic, look for parking, or go for a walk in our hometown.

We live in a time when it seems that with every new social media post, Trump shapes energy prices—and with them, the fate of our wallets. That was the case just days ago, when he unexpectedly announced a blockade of Iranian ports aimed at preventing oil exports, at least as long as the Strait of Hormuz remains closed to international transit. Although this is primarily a negotiating tactic by which the United States seeks to force Iran into a swift compromise, the effect of this saber-rattling is immediate: the price of crude oil on international markets once again exceeded $100 per barrel.

In working with company leadership teams, I repeatedly observe an interesting gap between understanding and practice. There is hardly anyone who wouldn’t emphasize that communication is important—sometimes even critical. And yet, in reality, it often appears at the very end of decision-making processes—as something that follows, rather than something that co-creates.

There is an interesting paradox: the more it seems that television is losing its power, the more politicians — at least the most experienced ones — treat it as a matter of life and death. The conduct of Janez Janša, president of the SDS and leader of the opposition, is today one of the clearest pieces of evidence that televised debates are not a relic of the analog past, but remain one of the key channels through which elections are decided.

“Russia is forced to do something terrible in order to restore its credibility” — this is a sentence Kremlin ideologues broadcast to the world. In the Trump 2.0–style global order, only brutality, force, and the willingness to destroy seem to count. Yet while great powers play with fire, redefining the rules of the global order and co-creating new spheres of interest, we must ask ourselves something entirely different: Where do small states fit into this equation? Where is Slovenia in all this?

When I think about brand identity, the idea of a paradox keeps circling in my mind: identity must be constant, yet at the same time it must be alive and keep pace with the times. When trends, technologies, and algorithms change faster than the seasons, it’s not necessarily the loudest brand that convinces, but the one we recognize effortlessly. Not because it is everywhere, but because it is consistent—in its decisions, its behavior, and the way it treats people.

After almost a quarter of a century, the possibility of political continuity is once again opening up in Slovenian politics. Not necessarily in the form of an electoral victory for the currently largest party, but in the very real possibility that, after the elections, the same political camp—and even the same prime minister—could once again form a government. In a political space accustomed to constant turnover, new faces, and short political memory, this is not an insignificant moment. It therefore calls for analysis rather than cheerleading.