Imagine a book that aspires to be the definitive study of how new businesses
are formed – not laundries and hairdressing salons, but businesses that
grow into sizable enterprises, even if they remain small by the standards
of corporate
behemoths.
And imagine that such a book, published in 2000, contains no discussion
of the
Internet – doesn't mention the Internet, in fact, in its otherwise
obsessively thorough
index, even though one of its central tenets is that "promising startups
cluster
in market niches characterized by high uncertainty generated by technological"
or
other forces.
Now imagine the strangest thing of all, that in spite of failing to acknowledge
the
600-pound gorilla munching noisily at the table, the book is filled with
useful and
even startling insights based on exhaustive research. Such is the strange
case of The Origin and Evolution of New Businesses (Oxford University Press)
by
Harvard Business School professor Amar V. Bhide, who purposely excluded
the Net from his otherwise authoritative-sounding study.
The question, of course, is why?
"I live off the Internet," Bhide said in a recent telephone interview,
noting that he was zapping files around long before there was even a
World Wide Web. "I'm not a luddite. On the other hand, I think the
processes by which new Internet businesses are being formed and
funded and taken public are aberrant." In other words, we're in the
midst of a bubble. And, says Bhide, "I think it's going to bust."
The funny thing is that Bhide's insights apply to some Internet
startups after all – just not the ones getting all the ink. Indeed, some
of the biggest players on the Net started by following the pattern
Bhide sets out for successful new businesses. For these very
reasons, budding Internet entrepreneurs – especially those who
believe the rapid cycle of idea to VC to IPO can't last forever – simply
can't afford to ignore the professor's ideas, despite his decision to
entirely overlook the Internet.
Perhaps the best way to explain those ideas is to start with the myth
they appear designed to shatter. Free associate for a minute: If you
hear "entrepreneur," what comes to mind? A risk-taking go-getter,
right? A classic type-A personality who comes up with a great new
idea and pursues his dream of building it into a business with
single-minded tenacity.
Bhide's research suggests this picture is all wrong. If anything, it's
the exception that proves the rule. In fact, most new businesses are
of the lawn-care variety: At best, they might provide a living for their
proprietor, but have little or no profit potential.
To figure out what sets apart successful businesses, Bhide takes an
approach that's akin to 19th century psychologist William James' view
of religion. James considered religion to be of two kinds: chronic and
acute. Most people might be called chronically religious, but to really
understand the phenomenon, he felt, one had to focus on the few
who were acutely religious, so the thing might be observed in full
flower.
To Bhide, all those hairdressers and lawn-care outfits are chronic
businesses. To find some acute businesses for his inquiry, he focused
on the 1989 Inc. magazine list of 500 fastest-growing small
companies. In 1988, these firms had average sales of $15 million, 135
employees and five-year sales growth of 1,407 percent. They are
exemplars of the kind of firm some researchers have called "gazelles,"
which account for most of the new jobs created in the small-business
sector.
In studying these firms, Bhide comes up with some striking findings.
First, far from being high-risk ventures, these businesses were
started on a shoestring by entrepreneurs who didn't have much to
lose. Their median startup capital was just $10,000, and more than a
third of the founders he interviewed didn't even have to forgo a
steady paycheck, having already quit or been fired from their regular
jobs.
Nor did they have to rack their brains to come up with a big idea.
Instead, the typical entrepreneur of a high-growth venture begins
with a modification or even duplication of an existing product or
notion, often in an unsettled or fast-changing field.
Instead of a fancy business plan, the venture thrives as a result of
the founders' adaptability. And instead of vision in the traditional
sense, the key instead appears to be what Bhide calls "myopic
opportunism," or a willingness to exploit short-term advantage in the
startup years. As to personality types, most of the usual
generalizations appeared wrong. More important than anything else
was a relatively high tolerance for ambiguity. Other useful skills:
"tactical ingenuity, self-control, perceptiveness and sales skills."
The visionary and charismatic advocate of the "big idea" – the human
force of nature who simply will not let anything get in his way – is the
rare exception. As is evident from Bhide's account of the early history
of Federal Express and its dynamic founder, Frederick W. Smith, there
are good reasons why this sort of thing is rare. FedEx made it big,
but it took a series of small miracles all along the way.
Bhide, a 44-year-old alumnus of the Indian Institute of Technology
and Harvard Business School, speaks and writes like a classic
intellectual, but entrepreneurship is in his blood. His father started
his
own glass-related business in Bombay in the 1930s, and when Bhide
came to the U.S. in 1977, it was with the intention of returning
someday to run the family business.
Instead, he piled up graduate degrees and launched his own
entrepreneurial ventures, none of them particularly successful. "I fell
on my face," he says cheerfully.
In one, he was going to have Japanese securities filings translated
into English in his native India and then make them available to U.S.
investors. It was a new idea, but it never got off the ground. He also
developed a scheme to give investors a piece of the action in
residential real estate by helping cash-short yuppies buy homes.
Another big idea.
He launched a little hedge fund, but it fell apart along with the
collapse of Long Term Capital Management, the much-bigger
Nobel-prize-studded fund whose demise nearly took down a good
chunk of the financial world.
Bhide hasn't been moved to start any Internet businesses, though it
would seem the ideal arena for entrepreneurs playing by his rules.
"High uncertainty and low capital and opportunity costs create a
'heads I win, tails I don't lose much' proposition for entrepreneurs,"
he
writes. But after holding true at the outset (Yahoo (YHOO) was
founded by graduate students with little money and less to lose),
Bhide's precepts have been buried under an avalanche of capital.
"What's different," he says, "is the breakdown of the Darwinian
process," whereby businesses that were unfit or founded by unskilled
entrepreneurs would fail long before billions of dollars were sunk into
them. It's as if political primaries were abolished and the parties found
themselves backing untested candidates for the White House.
"Either this is an unprecedented revolution that deserves to be
disassociated from normal economic forces," says Bhide, "or there's
something spooky about all this."
He cites the personal computer business as a contrast. He describes
its development as a "normal process" in which many entrepreneurs
vied for dominance, much like the early auto industry. After a while,
several firms rose to pre-eminence and got funded, eventually going
public.
"All that was good and healthy. That has been the pattern
throughout technological history," he says. "Only a few like Compaq
(CPQ) jumped the gun, and these were held to a higher standard" by
venture capitalists.
He notes that venture funds on average don't especially outperform
the stock market, particularly on a risk-adjusted basis. But unlike
mutual funds or traditional money managers, he suggests, there are
probably bigger differences between good and bad venture
capitalists, with the most successful enjoying a halo effect – the
most promising businesses are brought to them first – that only
reinforces their lead.
Bhide doesn't pretend to have an explanation for the Internet funding
frenzy, but he points to an earlier, analogous phenomenon as a
cautionary tale. "Biotech proves the point that these things don't
work," he says, noting that from 1990 to 1992 the amount of capital
invested in the once-hot biotechnology field shrank by two-thirds.
That's not to say he doesn't see a future for Internet
entrepreneurship. "The 2005 Inc. list will have lots of Internet
companies," he says. "But they will follow the traditional pattern."
Daniel Akst is a writer teaching this semester at UC Berkeley's
Graduate School of Journalism.
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