The founder arc and the morality of ambition

Over the past 16 years, I've lived in seven countries. Yet only recently have I become highly selective about the people I surround myself with. In retrospect, it seems obvious, but in my twenties, it wasn't clear at all. Each new country offered a fresh start, but it took me years to realize that I could deliberately shape my social circle to reflect who I wanted to become. Only when I arrived in Singapore did I consciously decide to surround myself primarily with ambitious founders.

It was challenging at first, but gradually I built a supportive community of people who were driven yet genuinely kind. Being surrounded by these people proved deeply rewarding, prompting me to reflect on my own ambitions and reconsider my purpose.

Through this reflection, an idea emerged: perhaps some people have a moral obligation to pursue remarkable things.

Let me unpack this.

Certain people seem inherently driven toward achievement. Their lives are defined by a relentless pursuit of challenges, growth, and excellence. For them, settling into mediocrity or comfortable stability feels deeply unsatisfying—almost painful. Why this happens remains unclear—personality, genetics, upbringing? Probably all the above.

I believe many founders fall into this category. They sense they're uniquely positioned, through internal drive, intellect, or circumstances, to tackle significant societal problems. And this unique positioning might imply greater moral responsibility.

Of course, context matters. It's unreasonable—even absurd—to expect someone from an underprivileged background to prioritize a lofty moral obligation without first ensuring basic needs are met. Stability and security, as outlined in Maslow’s hierarchy, are prerequisites. Moral responsibility is thus context-dependent.

These reflections led me to think about the founder journey as an arc—a series of steps, each stage laying the foundation for the next, ultimately leading to your life's most meaningful work.

Although a bit dramatic (for impact), I am framing the founder journey as a ladder. At the beginning of this ladder are "boring" businesses—low-risk, predictable, often service-oriented ventures. The initial goal is clear: financial stability. Money provides the resources and security necessary for tackling greater risks without jeopardizing your family's well-being.

With financial stability secured, the next logical step is launching a "real" startup, often a B2B SaaS business. Such startups offer attractive economics, predictable revenue, great margins, and scalable growth. Although not easy, they are statistically more achievable than ventures in hardware or biotech.

Succeeding here positions you to take on even greater challenges, such as hardware. Hardware startups, as the name suggests, are notoriously hard, capital-intensive, and complex, involving intricate manufacturing and supply chains. Your previous successes provide you the credibility, resources, and network required to manage this increased difficulty—a deliberate escalation, like progressing to harder levels in a game. You're moving from digitally scalable and less tangible to physical, impactful, deeply tangible ventures. This step conceptually holds up well, although hardware itself might be symbolic rather than strictly literal (for example, biotech can be parked here as well).

But even hardware is not the ultimate boss fight. In technology, we have something we call "moonshots"—ventures so ambitious they're nearly impossible. This level of challenge is why builders respect people like Elon Musk, despite him saying many things we might disagree with. At this stage, luck becomes negligible. You're attempting something profoundly difficult and deeply beneficial—curing diseases, extending lifespans, solving climate change, exploring the cosmos.

This final stage resonates with my earlier reflection on moral responsibility. At a certain level of capability, ambition, and opportunity, people become morally—or at least deeply personally—compelled to contribute meaningfully to society. Tackling world-changing problems feels both morally and emotionally aligned.

To clearly distill my core insights:

Obviously, not everyone wants or needs to pursue this path. Even among ambitious founders, not all aim for such extremes.

Additionally, this framework inevitably oversimplifies reality. Actual entrepreneurial journeys are messy, nonlinear, and uncertain. Life is complex, and no single playbook guarantees success. My own journey doesn't strictly follow this neat progression—but directionally, it's where I aspire to go.

Yet, a lingering doubt remains: perhaps the original idea isn't solely about morality but about responsibility or authenticity. Maybe those driven to achieve great things aren’t just morally obligated but also compelled by authenticity—meaning that failing to pursue significant challenges would betray their true nature.

Is this obligation moral or psychological? Perhaps it's both.

Indeed, personal authenticity and morality intersect deeply. Aligning one's unique abilities and deepest self-expression with meaningful societal contributions seems morally coherent.

Perhaps the true morality lies in alignment itself—personal authenticity harmonized with societal benefit.

Those inherently driven to achieve significant societal impact likely bear greater moral responsibility—but only after ensuring sufficient personal stability and resources.

Perhaps, rather than setting rigid expectations, the key is continuous, reflective self-assessment. The discomfort of moral obligation might exist precisely to compel us to regularly question whether we're genuinely striving toward meaningful contributions within our capabilities. Maybe our ultimate duty isn't just action, but ongoing reflection—to continually ensure we're living up to our moral and personal potential.

“It’s useful to focus on adding another zero to whatever you define as your success metric—money, status, impact on the world, or whatever. I am willing to take as much time as needed between projects to find my next thing. But I always want it to be a project that, if successful, will make the rest of my career look like a footnote.”

Sam Altman