Let There Be Light!

There are still issues to be resolved in limiting or expanding the search for social entrepreneurship, however, including an effort to describe the assumptions that underpin many of the contemporary definitions that guide us. These assumptions cover the four basic components of social entrepreneurship discussed earlier in this chapter: the entrepreneurs who pursue the change, the ideas for change itself, the opportunities to disrupt the prevailing equilibrium, and the organizations that house the effort.

Readers are forewarned that my list of assumptions emerged from my forays into the literature as I began my research on social entrepreneurship in 2005 and 2006. These assumptions were mostly drawn from the literature on social entrepreneurship, which was still struggling with basic definitions at the time. They were also collected from the 26 highly innovative Minnesota organizations profiled in my 1998 book, Sustaining Innovation, as well as my ongoing case studies of high-performing social benefit organizations (which is a term I use throughout my research out of respect for Drayton’s request that we stop using the word “nonprofit” to describe socially entrepreneurial activity). As such, the following discussion reflects a great deal of reading between the lines and no doubt misses many important nuances in the field.

Nevertheless, I was able to discern at least forty assumptions that underpin the debate about how to define social entrepreneurship. Making these assumptions more transparent can only advance the conversation about who does what, when, and where to change the social equilibrium. In turn, each assumption provides an opportunity for deeper research on what matters most to high-impact change.  Although I do not claim that there are the only assumptions about social entrepreneurship, they are the ones that most shaped my thinking about my exclusive approach to the term.

My old definition of social entrepreneurship has occasionally been juxtaposed against Martin and Osberg’s to illustrate the conflict between inclusive and exclusive definitions. At least that is how the editors of the Stanford Social Innovation Review introduced the Martin and Osberg piece in 2007. Despite the focus on differences, both definitions share common ground, not the least of which is the notion that entrepreneurs can come in pairs such as Jeffrey Skoll and Pierre Omidyar of eBay fame.

More importantly, both definitions also leave considerable room for debate about just where to draw boundaries about who drives social entrepreneurship, what changing the equilibrium actually means, when it is most likely to occur, and where it is housed.  For one example, my 2006 definition of social entrepreneurs assumes that the entrepreneur is often plural, coming in pairs, teams, networks, alliances, or communities to create socially entrepreneurial ideas. For another example, my definition allows for the use of “old stuff in new ways” as one path to pattern-breaking change, while most definitions focus on new ideas and new organizations. Yet, even here, the definitions start with the same goal: to change the social equilibrium.

To the extent that my old definition was designed to provoke debate about the true amount of socially entrepreneurial activity, it accomplished its task. I received dozens of e-mails and comments about the basic definition and its underlying assumptions, many of which argued that I was diluting the true meaning of entrepreneurship.

Writing in 2007 of the need to protect social entrepreneurship from being used to describe “all manner of socially beneficial activities,” Martin and Osberg made the case that inclusiveness could be a good thing: “If plenty of resources are pouring into the social sector, and if many causes that otherwise would not get sufficient funding now get support because they are regarded as social entrepreneurships, then it may be fine to have a loose definition.  We are inclined to argue, however, that this is a flawed assumption and a precarious stance.” 

As Martin and Osberg suggested, the concept of social entrepreneurship must be protected.  “If the promise is not fulfilled because too many ‘nonentrepreneurial’ efforts are included in the definition, then social entrepreneurship will fall into disrepute, and the kernel of true social entrepreneurship will be lost. Because of this danger, we believe that we need a much sharper definition of social entrepreneurship, one that enables us to determine the extent to which an activity is and is not ‘in the tent.’”  An exclusive definition would not only allow supporters to concentrate on building and strengthening a nascent field, it would protect social entrepreneurship against the “cynics” who already discount social innovation as a way to change the status quo.

Martin and Osberg took an important step toward this sharper definition by focusing on the social equilibrium. According to Martin and Osberg’s definition, social entrepreneurship starts with “an unfortunate but stable equilibrium that causes the exclusion, marginalization, or suffering of a segment of humanity;” engages an individual “who brings to bear on this situation his or her inspiration, direct action, creativity, courage, and fortitude;” and ends with the ultimate “establishment of a new stable equilibrium that secures permanent benefit for the targeted group and society at large.”

Defined as such, social entrepreneurship involves a target (the status quo), an actor (an individual or a pair with inspiration, courage, and so forth), and an outcome (a new stable equilibrium that secures permanent benefits). It also involves an idea for changing the status quo, an opportunity for taking action, and an organization.

Martin and Osberg drew upon Joseph Schumpeter’s 1934 description of business entrepreneurship as a form of “creative destruction” that permanently disturbs the prevailing economic equilibrium. As such, it provides more depth to the search for a more precise definition of change. But Martin and Osberg’s definition still leaves plenty of room for further debate about what kinds of activities actually constitute social entrepreneurship, a debate that Martin and Osberg addressed in their notion that social services and activism can coexist with social entrepreneurship in hybrid forms.

My definition of social entrepreneurship clearly allows more individuals, ideas, opportunities, and organizations into the tent. As I wrote in the Fall 2006 Stanford Social Innovation Review, the question is not whether social entrepreneurs exist—that much is certain in the most cursory sampling of the Ashoka and Echoing Green fellowship winners from recent years, most notably Muhammad Yunus.

Rather, the question is whether the field is too exclusive for its own good. By defining social entrepreneurship more by the characteristics of the individual entrepreneurs who forge social value through their work, I wrote that “the field may have excluded large numbers of individuals and entities that are equally deserving of the support, networking, and training now reserved for individuals who meet both the current definitional tests of a social entrepreneur and the ever-growing list of exemplars.”

Hence, my 2006 definition of social entrepreneurship was more inclusive. As I wrote, social entrepreneurship is an effort by an individual, group, network, organization, or alliance of organizations that seeks sustainable, large-scale change through pattern-breaking ideas in what governments, nonprofits, and businesses do to address significant social problems.

Between 2006 and 2008, I shortened the definition to focus more precisely on efforts to solve intractable social problems through pattern-breaking change, thereby reserving the question about who acts as an entrepreneur and where entrepreneurial activity occurs for further research.

My old definition focused on the kind of systemic change that Martin and Osberg highlighted as essential for creating a new social equilibrium. But I also embraced a set of underlying assumptions that increased my definition’s inclusiveness, most notably the notion that entrepreneurs do not always invent alone. Instead, social entrepreneurship can come from small groups or teams of individuals, from organizations, networks, or even communities that band together to create pattern-breaking change. By challenging the notion that socially entrepreneurial activity is the product of a 24/7 entrepreneur who perseveres against the odds, my old definition provided a bigger tent for social entrepreneurship.

My 2006 definition also embraced the possibility that the quantity of socially entrepreneurial activities varies across individuals and organizations, meaning that organizations might be somewhat or moderately socially entrepreneurial, while still meeting a more traditional charitable mission. My definition also focused on the notion that some individuals and organizations might even stop their socially entrepreneurial activities to concentrate on strengthening their operations or because of stall points, funding crises, or leadership transitions.

Not surprisingly, perhaps, given the field’s focus on a relatively small number of social entrepreneurs, my definition provoked intense reactions within the field, especially given my assumption that social entrepreneurs might not be as rare as imagined. In questioning the “cult of personality” that surrounds charismatic entrepreneurs, I had implied that individuals were somehow unimportant to social entrepreneurship.

My more inclusive view of social entrepreneurship almost certainly reflects my bias as an educator. As I have argued before, the amount of social entrepreneurship can be increased by supporting more potential entrepreneurs as they cross over to actual engagement.
This is the core belief at New York University’s Robert F. Wagner School of Public Service, which houses the Catherine B. Reynolds graduate and undergraduate fellows program on social entrepreneurship. The effort is based on the belief that social entrepreneurs can be identified early in their careers and given the skills and coaching to engage in socially entrepreneurial activity as soon as possible. Some will start new ventures, others will join entrepreneurial organizations, and still others will engage whole communities in the search for change.

Researchers still have plenty of work to do on the components of social entrepreneurship, however. Much as we may agree that social entrepreneurship involves a search for social value, there are sharp disagreements about the characteristics of social entrepreneurs, the nature of socially entrepreneurial ideas, the number and timing of socially entrepreneurial opportunities, and the size and shape of socially entrepreneurial organizations.

Thus the challenge is no longer in specifying the goal of social entrepreneurship but in thickening the understanding about who (the entrepreneur), what (the idea), when (the opportunity), and where (the organization) shape the effort to both disturb and replace the social equilibrium.

Some definitions are more inclusive, while others are more exclusive. The choice of one or the other has obvious implications for researchers, not the least of which is the estimated amount of social entrepreneurship at any given point in time. Those who use inclusive definitions invariably find more social entrepreneurship in more places than those who use exclusive definitions, thereby creating a deep inventory of examples, while those who use exclusive definitions find fewer entrepreneurs and less socially-entrepreneurial activity than those who use inclusive definitions, thereby reducing the inventory of success stories to a very familiar few that almost always seem to win the national awards.

As we shall see, these four components do not drift aimlessly through what Dees accurately described in 2008 as the ecosystem of social entrepreneurship. Rather, they come together on occasion to create a strategy for change.

Some strategies emphasize the entrepreneur’s dispositions and traits, while others focus on the context created by organization, and still others emphasis ideas and opportunities as central ingredients that are shaped and noticed by entrepreneurs and organizations.   

As we shall also see, the key to success may be in assembling the four components together to take advantage of a specific opportunity, develop a particular idea, use an entrepreneur’s special skills, or focus energy within an organization.

As such, creating social entrepreneurship may be very much like solving a jigsaw puzzle. Some will start at the corners, others at the center, and still others with a color. But it is unlikely that the puzzle can be solved without some combination of all approaches, especially as the number of pieces increase.

Organizations are the fourth component of social entrepreneurship, but were often an afterthought in the definitions I read.  Indeed, many definitions focused on organization and management as adversaries of change. 

Jane Wei-Skillern, James E. Austin, and Howard Stevenson took a neutral stance about organizations and social entrepreneurship in 2005.  Writing about the opportunity, people, capital, and context involved in creating social value, the three authors noted the importance of organizational alignment in achieving results: 


Although organizations impose clear operating constraints, they also provide essential capacity.  As Wei-Skillern and her colleagues continued, the challenge is to determine how much the organization can achieve with limited resources: “Seeking to address a very broad set of issues with very limited human and financial resources may actually result in low social impact because the organization’s resources are spread too thin.” Simply put, organizations cannot be ignored as a component of successful social entrepreneurship and a potential source of failure.

    Wei-Skillern and her coauthors clearly understood the point—their 19 page article in Entrepreneurship Theory and Practice used the word “organization” or “organizations” 127 times, and the words “entrepreneur” or “entrepreneurs” 109. 

Opportunities are the third component of social entrepreneurship, and were at the center of most, but not all of the definitions I reviewed over the past two years.  Viewed as a moment of possibility, opportunities are sometimes taken as a Peter Pan phenomenon—that is, if you believe you can fly, you will fly. 

Writing in 1998, Dees offered a very difference view.  Like Drayton, Dees reserved a significant role for the entrepreneur as the starting point of change.  However, Dees also argued that a powerful vision is not enough to create disequilibrium. Opportunities must be identified and exploited. Indeed, entrepreneurs are defined in part by their ability to recognize and “relentlessly” pursue new opportunities. “Where others see problems, social entrepreneurs see opportunity,” he wrote. “They are not simply driven by the perception of a social need or by their compassion. Rather they have a vision of how to achieve improvement and they are determined to make their vision work. They are persistent.”

Opportunities also provide resources and the potential for collaboration, which leads to Dees’ notion that social entrepreneurs work around the obstacles embedded in an opportunity.


For Dees, social value is always the ultimate goal. It is why social entrepreneurs pursue opportunities in the first place, learn and adapt as they proceed, and act boldly without regard to resources. And it is why they are called to action in the first place. Nevertheless, they could not act without the ability to recognize opportunity when it arises.

Ideas are the second component of social entrepreneurship, and are also found in all of the definitions I have collected.  Comparing business and social entrepreneurship in 2007, Martin and Osberg argued that the critical difference between the two is the “value proposition.” Unlike business entrepreneurs who focus on serving markets that can afford a new product or serve, social entrepreneurs seek no profit for their investors or themselves: 


Entrepreneurs clearly play a significant role in transformational change, but only when they are absolutely committed to the idea.  Indeed, writing in 2003, Martin warned the social benefit sector to avoid “heroic leadership trap.” “Take-charge leadership misapplied not only fails to inspire and engage, it produces passivity and alienation.

And this is true not only in the for-profit and government sectors. When nonprofit leaders assume ‘heroic’ responsibility for making critical choices, when their reaction to problems is to go it alone, work harder, and do more—with no collaboration or sharing of leadership—their ‘heroism’ is often their undoing.”

My assumptions about social entrepreneurship fall into four broad components:

• Entrepreneurs
• Ideas
• Opportunities
• Organizations. 

These four components not only help organization the rapidly growing literatures on business entrepreneurship, they clarify the search for strategies that might help entrepreneurs develop and launch better ideas, discover opportunities, and create more creative organizations. 
There is plenty of evidence that social entrepreneurship involves more than an entrepreneur and a pattern-breaking idea.  The only problem, if it is a problem at all is that the field as a whole has yet to decide which components matter most, or how individual dispositions vary with organizational context.

Entrepreneurs
Entrepreneurs are the first component of social entrepreneurship, and can be found in every definition I have read.  However, some definitions give entrepreneurs greater prominence than others.  Although Drayton argues that there is no entrepreneur without a powerful, system-changing idea that seeks widespread impact, there is no chance of success without the talent, creativity, and entrepreneurial intent of the individual.  As he wrote in 2005, “these people are compelled to change the whole society.  From childhood, an entrepreneur intuitively seeks out an area of interest, for example, health, and then begins the long search for an idea that will be his or her vehicle for leaving a scratch on history.”   

This focus on entrepreneurs inevitably leads the search for traits and characteristics that might these gifted individuals from the rest of society.  According to Drayton, “entrepreneurs are easy to spot long before they have made their mark.  They are married to their vision—and will stick with it for decades if needed.  They are equally focused on the ‘how to’ questions.  They ask themselves: How do I get from here to my goal fifteen years from now?  How do the pieces fit together?  How do I solve this and the next problem?”  Thus does the “democratic revolution” occur.

Drayton’s entrepreneurs also show deeper qualities:

The agreement helps on the basic goal of social entrepreneurship distinguishes it from social enterprise.  For many years, the terms were used interchangeably to describe revenue-generating activity on behalf of a social mission. 

Much as social entrepreneurship might benefit from social enterprise, social entrepreneurship has a different aim. Whereas social entrepreneurship seeks tipping points for innovation and change, social enterprise seeks profits for reinvestment and growth. 

As Dees wrote of the confusion in 2003, “far too many people still think of social entrepreneurship in terms of nonprofits generating earned income.  This is a dangerously narrow view.  It shifts attention away from the ultimate goal of any self-respecting social entrepreneur, namely social impact, and focuses it on one particular method of generating resources.  Earned income is only a means to a social end, and it is not always the best means.” 

This debate now seems settled, although Janelle A. Kirlin reported in 2006 that the two terms are stilled used inter-changeably in Europe. 

Many other debates remain open, however.  Once again, Low’s analysis is well worth reading as a cautionary tale for the future of social entrepreneurship:


    This call to evidence  applies to social entrepreneurship, as well.  And this call cannot be answered without a much deeper inquiry about the basic assumptions that propel the field forward.

Because the field of social entrepreneurship is so young, it is hardly surprising that many scholars might disagree on basic definitions. Writing in 2006 of the study of social entrepreneurship as a combination of “explanation, prediction, and delight,” Johanna Mair and Ignasi Martí rightly concluded that the concept is still poorly defined:  “While complementary definitions, each focusing on different aspects of the phenomenon, are necessarily an impediment in the search for theory, we still do not have a comprehensive picture of the phenomenon and lack a clear understanding of how social entrepreneurship should be studied.”

As such, the term is very much like leadership, which James Phills calls “everything and nothing.” Writing in 2005, he argued that this “mythical and mysterious” term is like a Rorschach test: “It can be whatever we want it to be, and that is part of its popular appeal. But at the same time, this conceptual ambiguity contributes to leadership’s status as one of the most fragmented and disappointing bodies of research and knowledge in the field of management.”

The same appears to hold true for the study of social entrepreneurship. In 2006, for example, Jay Weerawardena and Gillian Sullivan Mort offered an inventory of at least 20 different definitions used in past research on social entrepreneurship. Noting the field’s brief, fragmented history, the two authors concluded that researchers have yet to produce an evidence-based theoretical framework of what matters and does not matter to successful social entrepreneurship.

Notwithstanding this frustration, there is general consensus on the goal of social entrepreneurship. Having invented the term in the early 1980s, William Drayton has long argued that social entrepreneurship involves “large-scale systemic social change.” According to Drayton, systemic change comes from individuals with a powerful, new system-changing idea; creativity in goal setting and problem solving; a driving ambition to achieve impact; total absorption in their work, “in sickness and in health”; the desire to change an entire system; and ethical fiber. As Drayton so eloquently summarized his definition in 2005, social entrepreneurs seek nothing less than a new world:


Drayton’s focus on systemic change has been echoed by leading scholars such as J. Gregory Dees. Writing in 1998, Dees defined social entrepreneurship as the production of social value by individuals with:


In turn, Dees’ focus on sustaining social change underpins what Roger Martin and Sally Osberg labeled a “new, stable social equilibrium” in 2007, while Dees’ list of key entrepreneurial behaviors fits Martin and Osberg’s inventory of the personal characteristics needed to persevere. There may still be strong disagreements about the underlying assumptions about social entrepreneurship, but not about its basic goal.

Despite enormous enthusiasm for social entrepreneurship among a new generation of change makers and scholars, the field of social entrepreneurship is not yet a field per se.  It does not have paths to tenure for its young professors, a growing inventory of quantitative data for its researchers, or a guaranteed source of private or government funding for its investigators.  Its elder scholars are anything but elderly, or at least we think we’re not, and its younger scholars have to balance their interest in social entrepreneurship against work in more traditional, tenure track fields such as finance, banking, and marketing. 

There are hopeful exceptions to this portrait, however.  Several national foundations continue to invest heavily in research, Ashoka is creating intersections between research and practice, the Skoll Foundation continues to invite researchers to its annual world forum on social entrepreneurship, and scholars are still producing important insights for future validation.  But for now, social entrepreneurship research is more a part-time commitment than a full-time pursuit.

Indeed, as a field of inquiry, the study of social entrepreneurship is barely past its infancy.  As such, it resembles the early years in the study of business entrepreneurship. Despite its growth over the past three decades, one of the field’s leading scholars, Murray Low, described the field in 2001 as a “catchall” for scholars who cannot agree on basic definitions.  Comparing the definitions he found in major journals on business entrepreneurship, Low reported that the search for common themes nearly drove him “mad.”


This diversity has its advantages.  “One can argue in favor of a field that is inclusive and eclectic,” Low concluded.  “In many ways, the broad range of subjects is the strength of our field. The primary criterion for becoming an entrepreneurship researcher is passion for the subject, not adherence to a paradigm.  However, this inclusiveness and eclecticism is not free of cost.”  If entrepreneurship wants to grow up into a legitimate academic field, it must be more disciplined. 

Scott A. Shane reached the same conclusion in 2006: “Despite the high level of entrepreneurial activity in the world economy, and a corresponding focus of business schools on teaching in this area, scholarly research in entrepreneurship remains quite limited. Although the number of researchers who have investigated this phenomenon has increased in recent years, the quality of their theoretical and empirical contributions has been relatively poor, with few studies meeting the standards of leading academic journals.”

These frustrations reflect enduring differences across the academic disciplines.  Economists tend to define entrepreneurship as a sweeping change in the prevailing economic equilibrium; political scientists tend to view it as part of the agenda-setting process that determines who gets what, when, where, and how from government; psychologists tend to look for evidence of basic motivations for achievement, autonomy, and affiliation; historians look for the seeds of broad social movements that have deep links to long-standing social and political injustice; and anthropologists search for social customs that might explain broad cultural patterns of innovation. Can geneticists be far behind in finding a DNA marker of entrepreneurial intent?

In the posts above this one, NYU Professor Paul Light shares excerpts from his new book, The Search for Social Entrepreneurship. He writes: "Social entrepreneurship has become one of the most popular terms in circulation today, but do we really know what it means?  The answer, which I cover in my new book, is yes and no." Read on!

In the 19 posts below, Paul C. Light, Professor at New York University's Robert F. Wagner School of Public Service, writes about his search for social entrepreneurs --who they might be, where they might be found, what they do. His research was funded by the Skoll Foundation and this paper was written for "Research on Social Entrepreneurship: Understanding and Contributing to an Emerging Field," a forthcoming volume published by ARNOVA and funded by the UPS Foundation.

This paper is the hope, if not reality that there are more social entrepreneurs that the field has yet to discover. Some of these entrepreneurs may need help to become fully engaged, full-time. Others may simply need a boost in visibility and financial support to move through scale-up and sustained impact. And still others may be doing well as they are.

The challenge is not to define social entrepreneurship so broadly that it becomes just another word that gets bandied about in funding proposals and niche building. Other terms such as innovation have gone that route, and may never be rescued from over-use. At the same time, social entrepreneurship should not be defined so narrowly that it becomes the province of the special few that crowd out potential support and assistance for individuals and entities that are just as special, but less well known.

In the end, the research goal should be to uncover the factors that make social entrepreneurship a reality. If these factors suggest that social entrepreneurship is truly the work of a rare breed that must struggle mightily to succeed, so be it. At least the conclusion would yield insights on how to make the struggle easier.

If, however, the research suggests that social entrepreneurship can be a more natural act by a much larger number of individuals and entities, all the better. Then the field can move forward to create the conditions under which social entrepreneurship can flourish and work its will on solving the great intractable problems of our times.

Assuming that these two markers can be found in enough ideas, including successes, near-successes, and failures, researchers might consider a mix of approaches for explaining variation in social entrepreneurship. And it is variation that should produce insights on what might be done to increase the odds of success.

Although many of the key questions involve standard inventories of how individuals and organizations manage themselves, such questions are useless without a deeper understanding of the entrepreneurial idea and its impact. Such variables constitute the who, what, where, when, and how of the entrepreneurial idea.

1. The entrepreneur.
Was the generator an individual team, organization, network, and so forth? How much demographic diversity was involved? What is the entrepreneur’s primary social identity? What are the key life experiences, biases, and skills in the development, launch, and ongoing expansion of the idea? Is the entrepreneur charismatic, decisive, curious, smart, spiritual, honest, ethical, skeptical, trustworthy, innovative, risk taking, physically and emotionally fit, and so forth?

2. The idea itself.
Does the idea focus on administrative (how), technical (what), or blended innovation? What is its theory of change—e.g., use of the market, advocacy, or social movement? Who are its targets—e.g., individuals, communities, or nation-states? How much can it grow over time? Can it be sustained, disseminated, and protected over time? What were and are the barriers to change? What is its history both in its current form or earlier variations? If it has been tried before, what makes it different now? How much momentum has it gained?

3. The organizational home.
Where did the idea emerge—e.g., the nonprofit, governmental, or for-profit sector, among one or more, or in-between two or more? What is its current home—e.g., an organization as a whole, a separate unit, a skunk works designed to generate new ideas, or an outside incubator of some kind? And is the current home its original home? How tolerant is the organization toward new ideas? How much interest did it express? How does it scan its environment and plan its future? How is it structured—e.g., tall or flat, centralized or decentralized, and so forth? How does it delegate authority, motivate employees, and manage itself? And how strong are its governance, finance, evaluation, training, information, and planning systems? Where is it in organizational time—e.g., at the organic or start-up phase, the enterprising or expansion phase, the intentional or focusing stage, or the robust or smoothly operating phase?

4. The preparation for change.
Were the entrepreneurs prepared for pattern-breaking change? How much capacity building/technical assistance have they received? Are they receiving help now? Did they receive any accelerants from the external environment such as fellowships, mentoring, and venture funding? How was the idea launched? Were there any transitions, spin-offs, mergers, departures, and so forth involved? And how long will the idea last—e.g., was it designed as a short-, medium-, or long-term effort, or designed to last in perpetuity?

5. The development and launch.
How was the idea financed, who financed it, and how has the source of funding changed? Did it begin as an experiment, the use of old ideas in new ways, and so forth? Did luck or accidents play a positive and/or negative role? How long or was the start-up phase? Has the idea expanded, how fast, and how broadly? Was the idea developed on a 24/7/365 time-line or during spare time? Has it ever been put on hold?

6. The impact.
Was the idea successful? And how is success measured?

As this list suggests, the larger the sample, the more varied the investigation. Moreover, the larger the sample, the more likely researchers can find and compare high-performing social entrepreneurs with their high-performing, non-entrepreneurial peers. The key for now is to start with an ecumenical approach to developing the sample, build careful records on each entrepreneur in the sample, then proceed with a rigorous search for differences and similarities.

The key to research success lies in the last question about the idea, was it successful? Unless researchers are willing to make an effort to measure the impact of the idea, they will be unable to use these long lists of variables to discover any patterns that might actually improve the odds of success for future efforts. It is only by looking at successes and failures that the researcher can learn what matters and what does not. It may be, for example, that participatory leadership is nice to have, but utterly irrelevant to success. It may also be that fellowships, mentoring, and venture funding are hard to get, but absolutely essential to impact. The only way to know is to test the variables against an ultimate measure of success.

The problem with my expanded definition of social entrepreneurship is clear. Suddenly, social entrepreneurship can be found almost everywhere. Although award and fellowship programs might yield long lists of names and organizations for possible study, such lists would not contain the ‘sometimes-entrepreneurs’ or ‘on-hold entrepreneurs’ out there.

Similarly, case studies might miss the moribund organizations that have suddenly rediscovered themselves, or the self-effacing, non-media savvy entrepreneurs who prefer to remain anonymous.

By adding these social entrepreneurs into the sample, the study of social entrepreneurship can move beyond search for the proverbial needle in the haystack to methodologies for sorting piles and piles of hay. Some of those piles would clearly contain individuals and entities that are definitely not social entrepreneurs, while others would contain partial or transitional entrepreneurs, and still others would contain the ideal type defined in the more restrictive definitions discussed earlier in this paper.

One way to sort this entrepreneurial hay is by using what some social scientists call a modus operandi approach. Simply asked, what kinds of clues do social entrepreneurs leave as they do their work? How do they operate? What do they emphasize? How do they change over time?

The first and most important clue that social entrepreneurs leave is a commitment to solving significant social problems through pattern-breaking ideas, even if that commitment is currently on hold due to changing conditions. These pattern-breaking ideas should be visible through actual endeavor, and revealed in innovative programs or methods for solving a given problem.

Pattern-breaking may be in the eye of the beholder, however. Must it focus on a dramatic innovation, or a relatively small, but significant change in existing procedures? Must it be entirely new, or a blend of old ideas used in new combinations? Must it be shockingly novel, or merely a small variation? For now, the search should remain inclusive. After all, some of the most important breakthroughs can involve relatively small adjustments at the front-end of a program process that yield dramatic impacts far down the chain of results.

The second essential clue is a commitment to sustainable, large-scale impact. The individual or entity should be unmistakably committed to taking the pattern-breaking idea to scale, which means moving beyond research and development to full execution and evaluation. This commitment must be evident in efforts to grow the idea, and measurable through tangible indicators such as budget, organizational size, outputs, and ultimate outcomes.

Scale is also in the eye of the beholder. Must the goal be to change the world, or just a few city blocks? Must the idea have a global reach, or focus on a single community? Must it be to change laws, regulations, and prevailing practices within an entire field, or alter the wisdom in a relatively narrow band of endeavor? For now again, the search should be inclusive. Certainly large-scale change focuses first and foremost on the idea, not the organization that holds it. The more replicated, grown, or copied through what institutional sociologists call isomorphism, the larger the scale.

Large federations such as Habitat for Humanity, Girl Scouts, and the Red Cross have very entrepreneurial chapters and non-entrepreneurial chapters alike, sometimes in contiguous districts.

In turn, large, multi-purpose organizations such as Chicago’s Heartland Alliance, Minneapolis’ Project for Pride in Living, and New York’s Environmental Defense may have a blend of entrepreneurial and non-entrepreneurial activities underway at any given time. In addition, long-established organizations such as CARE International can change directions under new leaders such as Peter Bell, while others such as the Nature Conservancy may stop entrepreneuring for a time as they face external pressures such as the recent congressional investigation of land conservation policies.

Consider, for example, a simple two-by-two table that compares the level of support for social entrepreneurship with the intensity of commitment at the individual, group, organizational, network, and/or community level. As Table 2 suggests, such a classification scheme would allow for empirical investigation of what moves individuals and organizations upward toward the highest level of entrepreneurship, and what might explain movement downward toward slowdowns and pauses:


TABLE 2: COMPARING INTENSITY AND SUPPORT FOR ENTREPENEURSHIP






It may be, for example, that rebellious entrepreneurship despite organizational resistance is an essential first step toward full organizational commitment or a future spin-off, that false entrepreneurship not worth the trouble, let alone the funding, encouragement, or training, and that top-down diffuse entrepreneurship can ignite an organization toward great social impact, especially given the resources that a large organization might invest. Understanding movement within such a classification scheme requires analysis of the markets in which entrepreneurs operate, as well as the barriers to success.

Some researchers are already engaged in just such work. As Jeffrey A. Robinson (2006) argues in his emerging work on markets and institutional barriers, the field will not advance beyond “journalistic accounts” until it confronts the economic, social, and organizational structures that surround entrepreneurial opportunities:

First, social entrepreneurship opportunities are different from other types of opportunities because they are highly influenced by the social and institutional structures in a market/community.

Second, social entrepreneurship is not only a process by which social problems are solved using entrepreneurial strategies but it is also a process of navigating social and institutional barriers to the markets/community they want to impact. Social entrepreneurs are successful because they are able to execute and navigate. The ability to do both well is part of what makes social entrepreneurs and social entrepreneurship so special.

Third, social entrepreneurs find opportunities in areas and under circumstances they understand. I argue that an interaction takes place between the personal experiences and/or work experiences of the social entrepreneur and the characteristics of the market/community they are attempting to enter. This navigation process is one that is not understood by entrepreneurship scholars but is clearly an essential step toward the establishment of the venture (p. 14-15).

Such patterns will not emerge until scholars collect enough cases and conduct the needed histories to sort social entrepreneurs appropriately. Assuming that such a sorting can be done, one can easily imagine how the resulting knowledge might lead toward the development of signposts of impending change, and appropriate hedging and shaping actions that might help social entrepreneurs choose the right strategies to achieve the hoped-for pattern-breaking impact.

This sorting would also help answer the kinds of questions that Alvord, Brown, and Letts (2004) posit in their study of the seven well-established social entrepreneurships, including “when or how strategically timed financial support can make a pivotal different to the emergency of a successful social innovation” and “what contextual patterns encourage or hinder the emergence of different kinds of innovations…” (p. 280).

Alvord, Sarah H., L. David Brown and Christine W. Letts. (2004). “Social Entrepreneurship and Societal Transformation: An Exploratory Study.” The Journal of Applied Behavioral Science, 40:3, 260-282.

Robinson, Jeffrey A. (2006). “Navigating Social and Institutional Barriers to Markets: How Social Entrepreneurs Identify and Evaluate Opportunities.” draft chapter to be published in J. Mair, Jeffrey. A. Robinson, and K. Hockerts, eds., Social Entrepreneurship, London: Palgrave.

Social entrepreneurship may be the most exciting and frustrating field in public service today.

On the one hand, it offers the excitement of breakthrough thinking, compelling life stories, and potentially dramatic progress against daunting global problems such as hunger, poverty, and disease. It also offers the kind of research opportunities described above.

On the other hand, the field offers few evidence-based insights on how social entrepreneurs can improve the odds of impact. Given few tools for separating the wheat from the chaff, social entrepreneurs are left with long menus of advice. As a result, they often reinvent the wheel as they struggle to discern lessons from a relatively small number of exemplary peers.

By often defining social entrepreneurs as a rare breed, advocates may have created a self-fulfilling prophecy in which these rare breeds toil in relative isolation and obscurity for decades hoping for scale-up and full impact. Although entrepreneurs can find plenty of colleagues at international meetings such as the Skoll World Forum on Social Entrepreneurship, the supply of high-quality research base has not kept up with the demand, in part because the demand has accelerated much faster than research rewards such as academic recognition and tenure.


Toward a Broader Definition of Social Entrepreneurship

It is not yet clear whether there is more social entrepreneurship in the U.S. and the world today than one might assume given the contemporary focus on a relatively small number of exemplars. What is clear is that past exemplars have mostly been solo entrepreneurs who launch, nurture, and grow a programmatic innovation into full impact.

One way to broaden the number of exemplars is to expand the definition of social entrepreneurship to expand the locus of socially-entrepreneurial activity, while being more explicit about the kinds of activity that qualify as entrepreneurial.

The following definition attempts to do both:

A social entrepreneur is an individual, group, network, organization, or alliance of organizations that seeks sustainable, large-scale change through pattern-breaking ideas in what and/or how governments, nonprofits, and businesses do to address significant social problems.

This definition contains eight basic assumptions about the sources, goals, and strategies of social entrepreneurs, the socially-entrepreneurial organizations they either build or inherent, or the less-entrepreneurial organizations they change to full-blown socially-entrepreneurial purposes.

1. Social entrepreneurs do not have to be individuals—they can also be small groups or teams of individuals, organizations, networks, or even communities that band together to create pattern-breaking change. This assumption moves the field away from individual-centered study, while expanding the number of potential social entrepreneurs that might already exist.

2. Social entrepreneurs seek sustainable, large-scale change. This assumption, which adopts the prevailing goal-oriented nature of the contemporary debate, nonetheless moves the field away from questions about who becomes an entrepreneur to what they seek, while again expanding the number of potential social entrepreneurs that might exist.

3. Social entrepreneurship can involve pattern-breaking ideas in either how or what gets done to address significant social problems. This assumption moves the field toward a broader definition of social entrepreneurship that includes organizational and administrative reforms, as well as “using old stuff in new ways.”* It also embraces Dees definition of “enterprising social innovation” as a blend of the social enterprise (or market-driven) school of thought with the “social innovation” school presented in this volume.

4. Social entrepreneurs exist in and between all sectors. This assumption opens the discussion beyond nonprofits to include other sectors and multi-sectoral entities. Social entrepreneurship may be more difficult to launch and sustain in government, for example, where the penalties for risk taking are immediate, but it exists nonetheless. Again, it also embraces Dees and Anderson’s notion of “sector-bending” organizations that use elements of nonprofit and for-profit thinking.

5. Social entrepreneurs need not engage in social enterprise or use market-based tools to be successful. This assumption breaks the necessary-but-not-sufficient relationship between social enterprise and social entrepreneurship by rendering earned income as one of many possible means to a social-purpose end. As Dees (2004) recently writes, “Successful social entrepreneurs will use the most effective structures, strategies, and funding mechanisms to achieve their social objectives. Social entrepreneurship should not be seen as a funding strategy, and it should not be tied to the idea of business ventures….At its heart, entrepreneurship is about establishing new and better ways to create value” (p. 17). It is important to note that Dees’ more recent work suggests that the use of market-driven tools such a micro-finance may be a way of distinguishing between different types of social innovation.

6. The quantity of social entrepreneurship can vary greatly across individuals and entities. Some social entrepreneurs will be very entrepreneurial compared to others, while others may restrict their entrepreneurial activity to a particular program or unit. This assumption allows for comparisons across individuals and entities that are very, fairly, or only somewhat entrepreneurial, which may yield valuable knowledge on the conditions that might permit greater activity, as well as the conditions that might make lower levels of entrepreneurship quite appropriate.

7. The intensity of social entrepreneurship can and does ebb and flow over time as circumstances change. This assumption allows further study of the economic, political, social, and organizational conditions that might explain stall points, pauses, stops, and restarts in socially-entrepreneurial activity. Under this assumption, social entrepreneurs can occasionally look very non-entrepreneurial as they consolidate, retrench, or respond to inevitable external pressures. Challenge the conventional wisdom, and the conventional wisdom will almost always challenge back—that is, after all, how the conventional wisdom survives.

8. Social entrepreneurs sometimes fail, though at as-yet-to-be-determined rates. Much as they may seek to create pattern-breaking change, they face serious barriers to success, not the least of which is the tendency of the status quo to push back against pattern-breaking change. That is, after all, the way the status quo endures.


It is easy to see how this definition might produce a longer list of both successful and less-successful cases. Not only does the definition assume social entrepreneurship occurs in many places (governments, nonprofits, businesses, and in between), it is also quite explicit about the potential role of technical innovation such as low-cost, wireless, crank-powered computers for citizens in less developed countries through partnerships between nonprofit funders and for-profit businesses.

* This term was invented to describe some forms of government innovation, and is discussed in Mary Bryna Sanger, and Martin Levin, “Using Old Stuff in New Ways: Innovation as a Case of Evolutionary Tinkering,” Journal of Policy Analysis and Management, vol. 10, no. 4, Fall, 1991.

Dees, J. Gregory. (2004). “Putting Nonprofit Ventures in Perspective.” In Sharon M. Oster, Cynthia W. Massarsky, and Samantha L. Beinhacker. Generating and Sustaining Nonprofit Earned Income, 3-18. San Francisco, Jossey-Bass.