Startups are like frogs: slippery, unpredictable, and occasionally dangerous. In mythological terms, “Water” represents chaos and the unformed, a realm of beasts and darkness. “Land” symbolizes the human, the civilized, and the stable. Frogs live between these worlds, embodying potential (think of the fairy tale kiss) but always at risk of disappearing into the depths, becoming something chaotic or destructive.
Startups, like frogs, are unformed, uncertain, and deeply liminal. We praise startups when we call them “disruptive.” To use a more familiar metaphor, startups stand "On The Wall," straddling the boundary between the “City” (or the “Familiar World,” for Campbell fans) and the unknown. They are heroes—not kings at the center, nor villains or monsters outside the wall.
Of course, there are times when a startup falls outside the wall, becoming pirate, trickster, or knave. When this happens, the pitchforks come out. Consider Napster (pirate) or FTX (trickster)—companies that faced severe backlash and legal consequences for challenging societal norms and business rules. Uber (knave) too crossed the line with its disregard for regulations and employees, leading to a critical need for reform. What else do we do with monsters?
Other times, startups move inside the wall, becoming familiar, friendly, and part of the community. This is a great outcome! I keep an eye out for when a startup should evolve into a “real” business—one that makes a profit and follows societal rules—even if it has to give up its most iconoclastic visions. There may be a sense of loss with some founders, or the founder may actually lose control of the business to someone more conventional (famously, and temporarily, with Jobs and Scully at Apple). But a transition “onto land” or “inside the wall” at any point in the journey is a win: the founder has created an entity that delivers value to customers, employs people, and pays taxes.
The strain of being an amphibian—holding two worlds together—is immense. Most founders can only stay in the liminal space for a short time—perhaps a decade or even less. Some founders discover they have tamer values—such as family or their own health—and their frogs hop out of the pond to live on land. Interestingly, those who keep their companies on the wall, or in both worlds, for too long often take on an ambiguous quality—we are unsure if they are hero or villain, sea monster or prince. Look at the complex space our friend Elon occupies in public perception right now—it looks at times as though his hero’s journey could go either way.
Remember, these different paths start from the same place: a frog on the edge of the pond, a creature that can exist in water or on land. It’s tempting to think that no monster could ever have been so close, or that the organizations we now trust could once have ventured into dark, corruptible waters—but it’s true.
One of the roles of liminal figures is to create constructive conflict (“disruption” in business-speak) and that conflict is not without the need for tempering, softening, and eventually incorporating into the more structured societal realms. This cycle is inevitable and necessary. After all, we have a word for heroes who can no longer reconcile with those not on the wall: villains.