By Maurice E. Bakker BSc MBA – co-founder of Startup Utrecht
In a world driven by rapid technological shifts and global capital flows, one element of entrepreneurship remains firmly grounded in the local: community. Building a startup, for all its digital velocity, is still a deeply human act. It requires trust, learning, serendipity, and most of all, a sense of belonging. Over the years, as I built Startup Utrecht, I came to understand this firsthand. Communities don’t form from the top down. They emerge from shared ambition, shared struggle, and shared growth. And at the heart of every great community I’ve seen, one truth keeps showing up: a startup community is only as strong as the entrepreneurs it chooses to center.
I want to take you on a journey through that insight—a story that begins with the lessons of Brad Feld’s Boulder Thesis, travels through the streets of North American startup hubs, and lands in the evolving landscape of European ecosystems. It’s a story about who gets to lead, who feels welcome, and what it takes to build something that lasts.
When Feld published Startup Communities in 2012, he offered a framework for rethinking how we support entrepreneurs. His Boulder Thesis is now widely known: startup communities should be led by entrepreneurs, nurtured over decades, open to all, and energized by continuous activity. But beyond the theory, what Feld gave us was permission—to step away from government-controlled agendas, and to trust the people actually doing the building. This is the basis on which Nils de Witte and I, founded Startup Utrecht in 2013.
That idea resonated deeply with me, with Nils. Because in too many places, startups are treated like guests in someone else’s building. Governments draft innovation strategies. Universities design accelerator programs. Corporates sponsor competitions. And while these institutions play valuable roles, they often do so from a posture of control, not collaboration. Entrepreneurs, in these settings, are invited to participate—but rarely to lead.
It’s different in North America. Visit Boulder, Austin, Toronto, or Montreal, and you’ll find ecosystems pulsing with founder energy. Events are created by founders. Mentorship happens informally over coffee. Capital flows through trust networks. There is no sense of waiting for permission. Founders there understand that they are not the subject of ecosystem strategies—they are the ecosystem.
In Europe, by contrast, many startup communities are still policy-driven. They emerge from municipalities and ministries, full of good intentions but often constrained by budget cycles and political optics. What this creates, too often, are curated ecosystems—where innovation is choreographed but not lived. Real growth, I’ve learned, doesn’t respond well to choreography.
We’ve had to wrestle with this in Utrecht. From the very beginning, our approach with Startup Utrecht has been to put founders at the center. We don’t create programs and then look for participants—we ask founders what they need and build with them. We don’t hold pitch competitions just for media attention—we create spaces for real conversations, shared vulnerability, and practical help. The difference is subtle but powerful: one model invites applause; the other invites commitment.
Commitment, in fact, is where the hardest lesson lies. Feld insisted that building a startup community is a 20-year endeavor. Not a sprint, not a pilot, not a grant-funded experiment. Twenty years. It’s easy to admire that idea; it’s harder to live it. Ecosystem building often requires doing things without immediate payoff. It asks you to show up, again and again, trusting that the real change will come slowly—through accumulated trust, generational mentorship, and thousands of unseen connections.
But this long view is exactly what makes founder-led ecosystems work. Because founders understand uncertainty. They know that results come from iteration, not imposition. And they know that what they’re building will likely outlast their own venture. That sense of stewardship—of giving back even while building forward—is what keeps a community alive.
There’s another part of the Boulder Thesis that I think doesn’t get enough attention: inclusiveness. A startup community must be open to anyone who wants to participate. That sounds obvious, but it’s rarely practiced fully. Too many ecosystems are built on velvet ropes: invite-only dinners, exclusive accelerators, gatekept mentorship circles. The message this sends is quiet but clear: if you don’t speak our language, look like us, or know the right people—you’re not ready.
I reject that. At Startup Utrecht, we believe that if you’re building, you belong. Whether you’re pre-product or post-exit, solo founder or founding team, new to the scene or returning for a second shot—there’s space for you. We’ve made a point of keeping our doors open, literally and metaphorically. Because we know that real innovation doesn’t come from curation. It comes from collision.
That’s why our most valuable initiatives haven’t been the ones with the biggest budgets. They’ve been the ones that created the most human contact. Roundtable lunches. Peer-to-peer mentoring sessions. Informal meetups. Slack groups that grew into friendships. These are not glamorous activities—but they’re what keep people coming back. And in the end, it’s the people who return, contribute, and invest in others that give a community its soul.
Research supports this. Studies show that the density and frequency of interactions among founders directly impact the vibrancy of a startup ecosystem. It’s not just who’s in the network—it’s how often they talk, how freely they share, and how much they trust each other. Community isn’t about numbers—it’s about emotional bandwidth.
Look at what’s worked in cities like Helsinki, where Slush grew from a student-led event into a global platform for founder-first connection. Or Tallinn, where the Estonian government took a backseat and let digital entrepreneurs shape the country’s identity. Or even Amsterdam, where the most impactful programs have been those co-created by founders, not imposed by top-down structures.
Startup Utrecht has learned from these examples, but we’ve also written our own story. We’ve seen how fragile momentum can be when it relies too heavily on external funding. We’ve seen how easy it is for community to become transactional. And we’ve learned that the antidote to that is relationship over ROI.
That’s why we’ve started every new initiative by asking: “Who is this for—and are they sitting at the table with us?” It’s a simple question, but it forces clarity. It pushes us to include founders not just in testimonials, but in decision-making. It reminds us that a community isn’t built for entrepreneurs—it’s built with them.
So, if you’re reading this as a founder, know this: your presence matters. Not just to your business, but to your ecosystem. When you show up—when you mentor, share, listen, and lead—you’re shaping the future for everyone who comes next.
And if you’re reading this as an ecosystem builder or policymaker: center the founders. Not in your marketing materials, but in your meetings. Not at the end of the planning process, but at the beginning. Trust them, resource them, and get out of their way.
Because startup communities are not made by strategies. They’re made by people. People who choose to stay, to build, and to belong.That’s what we’re doing in Utrecht. And we’re just getting started. This is why I co-founded Polaris Enterprises, so together with fellow entrepreneurs, we can guide businesses to new horizons. Building communities, by entrepreneurs and for entrepreneurs. Nothing else matters.