Jess Wilder
17. März 2023
In the sleek coworking spaces and bustling coffee shops of today's startup hubs, a quiet crisis is unfolding. Behind the carefully curated Instagram feeds and bold proclamations of "disruption," many entrepreneurs are grappling with a profound sense of unease. The glossy narrative of entrepreneurship - one of visionary founders confidently building world-changing companies - is colliding with a far messier reality.
New research from Copenhagen Business School offers a revealing glimpse into this hidden world of entrepreneurial angst. Through an 18-month case study of a single entrepreneur's journey, researchers Sara Louise Muhr and Christian De Cock uncovered the complex emotional terrain navigated by those trying to build a business and an identity simultaneously.
Their subject, "Robert," was in many ways the quintessential startup founder - ambitious, passionate about his ideas, and eager to make his mark on the world. But as he tried to get his mathematical modeling company off the ground, Robert found himself caught in an endless cycle of excitement and disappointment, confidence and self-doubt.
"I wished I knew what I was doing. Or why. Do I enjoy this? Enough?" he wrote in one particularly poignant journal entry.
This constant flux between optimism and despair may sound familiar to anyone who has attempted to start a business. But the researchers argue it represents more than just the ups and downs of entrepreneurship. Rather, it reflects a fundamental identity crisis at the heart of modern startup culture.
The popular image of the entrepreneur as a bold visionary who fearlessly pursues world-changing ideas has become so pervasive that it acts as a kind of "enterprise discourse" - a set of ideals and expectations that founders feel compelled to live up to. The problem is that this idealized version of entrepreneurship often bears little resemblance to the day-to-day realities of building a business.
For Robert, this meant constantly trying on different identities as he navigated the unpredictable waters of entrepreneurship. One day he would see himself as a savvy dealmaker, the next as a creative innovator. When forced to take on consulting work to pay the bills, he would struggle to reconcile this with his image of himself as a visionary founder.
This state of flux - what the researchers term "liminality" - is typically seen as a temporary phase on the way to a stable identity. But for many entrepreneurs, it has become a permanent condition. The ever-present pressure to project confidence and success makes it difficult to ever feel truly settled.
"Liminality becomes a condition of possibility," the researchers write. "As such, Robert begins to fantasize in order to give himself a raison d'être. In this sense his identity is always displaced towards the future, effectively blurring the line between what is 'fake' and what is 'real'."
This constant identity shapeshifting takes a significant emotional toll. But the researchers argue it also serves an important purpose. By remaining in this liminal state, entrepreneurs are able to maintain the illusion of possibility - that just around the corner lies the breakthrough that will finally allow them to become the visionary founder they aspire to be.
The coping mechanism that enables this perpetual state of becoming is what the researchers call "emotional reflexivity." This is the process by which entrepreneurs use their emotional responses as a way to make sense of their experiences and construct a coherent narrative of who they are.
When Robert landed a big sale, for example, he would initially feel elated. But he would quickly temper this excitement by reminding himself that it was just a "re-sell" of someone else's product, not success with his own invention. This allowed him to maintain his identity as an innovative founder, always on the cusp of a breakthrough, rather than settling for being "just" a small business owner.
This constant emotional recalibration is exhausting. But it also provides a way for entrepreneurs to keep pushing forward in the face of setbacks and disappointments. By never fully embracing or rejecting any single identity, they maintain the flexibility to keep pivoting and evolving.
The implications of this research extend far beyond the world of startups. In many ways, the identity crisis of the modern entrepreneur reflects broader tensions in our society. We lionize risk-takers and innovators, yet our economic systems often punish failure harshly. We preach the virtues of authenticity, yet expect people to constantly reinvent themselves to stay relevant.
For aspiring entrepreneurs, this research offers both a warning and a source of comfort. The road to building a successful business is likely to be far more emotionally tumultuous than most expect. But this very instability may also be what allows founders to keep moving forward in the face of daunting odds.
Perhaps most importantly, this work challenges us to reconsider our cultural narratives around entrepreneurship. The myth of the heroic founder, single-mindedly pursuing a world-changing vision, makes for compelling stories. But it bears little resemblance to the complex, often messy reality of startup life.
A more nuanced understanding of the entrepreneurial journey - one that acknowledges the constant identity flux and emotional labor involved - could help create more supportive ecosystems for founders. It might also take some of the pressure off entrepreneurs to maintain a facade of unwavering confidence and success.
Ultimately, this research reminds us that entrepreneurship is not just about building businesses, but about constructing identities. In a world of uncertainty and rapid change, perhaps we all have something to learn from the emotional reflexivity of startup founders - forever becoming, never quite arriving, but always moving forward.