Founders and the burden of hope
I’m interested in words and non more so that the word ‘Founder”. I have mused previously about the dual meaning of this word but it is the symbolic weight that it now seems to carry which is the focus on these musings.
I am a huge fan of Wilfred Bion’s profound insights about the functioning of groups and particularly the contrast he draws between functioning work groups and what he terms “basic assumption groups,” and the unconscious group dynamics that shape how people cope with uncertainty and chaos. Among these, the notion of pairing stands out, revealing not just a mechanism for managing anxiety but also a commentary on the nature of hope and the societal malaise we often find ourselves in.
Bion’s framework of basic assumption groups illustrates how, in moments of collective disarray, individuals lean into irrational, almost primitive responses. Pairing, in particular, emerges when a group, gripped by a sense of malaise or fear, unconsciously selects a pair of individuals — investing them with messianic potential. This is never rational or conscious and rarely evidence of leadership capabilities but a desperate grasp for salvation, a deep yearning for someone, anyone, to lead them out of their current malaise.
At the heart of this phenomenon is the paradox of hope. The group, while looking to this chosen pair for salvation, often finds itself comforted not by the actual prospect of success but by the very expectation of it. Hope, in this sense, thrives in anticipation, in the suspension between longing and resolution. It’s the possibility that the future will be brighter that keeps the group going, not necessarily the realisation of that brighter future.
This same dynamic plays out across society. In a world where disillusionment feels more common than optimism, the need for a saviour has become pronounced. We see it in politics, in culture — and perhaps most strikingly — in the world of business and entrepreneurship. The modern founder or co-founders aren’t just entrepreneurs, they’ve become symbols, a messiah of sorts, carrying the collective hope of society on their shoulders. But what happens when we project our need for hope onto them?
For founders and leaders, Bion’s theory suggests a seismic shift in their role. They aren’t simply architects of a business; they’re stewards of hope in a society adrift. In a world grappling with uncertainty, founders carry the burden of collective aspirations. Their success isn’t just measured in financial returns or disruptive innovations but measured in the intangible currency of hope. People look to them not only to create jobs or wealth but to embody the possibility of a better future.
This realisation can be both daunting and liberating. On the one hand, it means founders are tasked with something far greater than profit margins they’re tasked with guiding us through turbulent times, providing not just solutions but the possibility that things can be better. On the other hand, it suggests that success is about more than just execution; it’s about vision, about keeping hope alive even in the face of adversity.
However, the weight of carrying societal hope is not without its risks. In fact, this burden can often become overwhelming. When founders are cast in messianic roles, the pressure to meet these expectations can be crushing. The hope projected onto them becomes a force they must reckon with, one that can distort their own sense of identity. As they strive to live up to the myth society has created around them, they risk losing touch with reality, inflated by what we might call a “messiah complex.”
This is where the danger lies, in trying to fulfill the exaggerated expectations thrust upon them, founders may begin to believe in their own myth. They become disconnected from their humanity, from the fallibility that comes with being human. Success, in this context, becomes more about maintaining an image than engaging with the messy realities of running a business.
Yet, it’s important to remember that founders are not invincible. Like the rest of us, they are vulnerable to doubts, insecurities, and failures. Behind the facade of success lies a person grappling with immense pressure, trying to navigate the complexities of their role in an uncertain world. This is the core of the founder’s burden, not just to manage a company, but to manage the hopes of those around them.
In projecting our hopes onto founders, we run the risk of not only setting them up for failure but also of losing the very creativity and edge that could lead to meaningful change. Hope, when inflated into a messianic expectation, becomes fragile, too easily shattered by the inevitable missteps and setbacks that come with entrepreneurship. What starts as a hopeful vision can quickly descend into disillusionment if the founder fails to meet the lofty aspirations placed on them.
So, how do we avoid this cycle of projection, disappointment, and despair? By remembering that founders, like all of us, are human. They will falter, make mistakes, and, at times, fail spectacularly. The key is to hold onto hope not as a guarantee of success but as a space for possibility. Founders, after all, are not omnipotent saviours. They are individuals navigating a complex landscape, doing their best to create something meaningful in an unpredictable world.
