The wisdom of enterprise

Last April, I attended the Clinton Global Initiative University (CGIU), a yearly meeting “where students, youth organizations, topic experts and celebrities come together to discuss and develop innovative solutions to pressing global challenges.” I was invited for my social entrepreneurship, in recognition of an application called “Uhuru” that I crafted after working for two summers in refugee resettlement organizations in Washington, D.C. and Amman, Jordan. Uhuru, the Swahili word for freedom, crowd-sources the entrepreneurial activity of refugees and advertises them to local customers. Frustrated by unsustainable subsidies to refugees that bred dependency, I saw Uhuru as a mechanism to facilitate refugee entrepreneurship. At CGIU, I was told President Clinton found my application as exemplary of the creative problem solving integral in public service.

Uhuru was recognized at a CGIU plenary session titled, “The Wisdom of Failure.” The development of Uhuru was dynamic, but my social entrepreneurship really grew from failure. Long before I was ever interested in crowd-sourcing, I wanted to start a non-profit. It was a grand idea born from my FOCUS program and my own frustration with the inefficacies of refugee resettlement agencies. I felt that my non-profit, the Triangle Area Refugee Association (TARA), could do better. I spent the fall semester of my first year refining the idea, writing proposals for grants and researching the path forward. I met with leaders in the refugee resettlement field, and I touted TARA to everyone I met. I must have seemed determined and optimistic.

But one day I gave up and stopped trying to make TARA happen. Part of it was the realization of my own arrogance—I thought that I could do better than industry veterans by just reinventing the wheel. I was still frustrated by resettlement outcomes, but I realized the problems were likely more systemic and could not be rectified through a non-profit. Refugee resettlement is hard, and I was naïve for thinking otherwise. It had been much easier to criticize, and much harder to do.

I would like to think that Uhuru is a story of redemption, and I think CGIU saw it that way. But this was not a comeback story. This was a story of opportunity, a chance that presented itself and an endeavor worth pursuing. My motivations made Uhuru different from TARA. I saw Uhuru as a cool idea that I wanted to try, and I saw TARA as a way to impress. I think TARA ultimately failed because creating a non-profit seemed like the standard go-to for college social activists like me who wanted to make a difference.

I still want things to be different, for refugee resettlement to be a better process. But I no longer want difference for difference’s sake, nor do I feel compelled to start a non-profit before I graduate. I am motivated now by the cause itself, a passion that has grown after working with refugees for two and a half years. Last November, I was invited to speak at the Humanitarian Challenges FOCUS program and there I met a group of first-year students developing social entrepreneurship solutions for refugee conflicts abroad. I made a point of emphasizing TARA, and I told them to seek out ideas with potential, not ideas that would provide opportunities to brag about. My advice stemmed from self-criticism—I am still mad at myself for feeling the need to rack up accomplishments for their own sake.

The motivations behind TARA are not unique to me. All too often I see non-profits, initiatives, student groups, mobile applications and other social entrepreneurship endeavors that froth with self-aggrandizement. The go-to for collegiate social causes is the act of creation itself rather than long-term results. We celebrate initiative, when sustainability might be a more apt goal. American campuses are rife with projects that have high-minded names, mission statements dripping with concocted passion and the ever-constant, but often convoluted and unchecked, goal to “raise awareness.”

And that is okay. It is unrealistic for everyone to have completely pure intentions. I have come to realize that TARA, though ill-motivated, was a formative experience. I learned more about refugee resettlement: what services are provided to refugees, how the resettlement process works and where existing refugee communities are located. I also picked up a set of advocacy organizational skills that have already been useful in my more results-driven activities. But, most importantly, I learned a lot about myself. I found out that I am resilient, industrious and driven. I also found out that I am drawn to achievement, self-promotion, and that, at my core, I have a lot of self-doubt. I felt the need to prove myself, to attach myself to a cause and show that I can create change.

We emerge from these seemingly change-driven endeavors with a better understanding of what creates real value in society. We learn these lessons now, so we can enter our post-collegiate life with a more mature understanding of our purpose. We reap wisdom from our enterprises, so we can one day substantively use this knowledge for the service of society.