Twenty years of social entrepreneurship: leadership lessons
From an article from Pioneers Post
As a young social entrepreneur, Mark Swift was passionate and full of ideas to create social change. But he didn’t imagine the hurdles he would face developing Wellbeing Enterprises. He shares his lessons in collaboration, persistence, kindness and authenticity:
Twenty years ago, I set out to build something I hoped would help. I didn’t have a big plan – just a feeling that things could be done differently, and a belief that people’s health and wellbeing mattered enough to try. I couldn’t have known then how much it would shape me.
I was 23: driven, full of ideas, but still figuring out what it meant to create change. I imagined a linear path: identify a problem, gather good people, offer a better way and the world would respond, but it didn’t.
What I didn’t know then was how much I would need to learn, unlearn, and relearn – because social change is rarely straightforward; that being a social entrepreneur isn’t about solving a puzzle and moving on, it’s about staying with the problem, living in it, working with its contradictions, and slowly, carefully, building something that stands.
A sense of justice in my youth eventually shaped the beginnings of Wellbeing Enterprises, which today aims to help people live happier, healthier, longer lives by delivering programmes, training, consultation and supporting community-led innovation. It felt instinctive; necessary. I believed that if something needed doing and no one else was doing it, I should act.
But I hadn’t reckoned with what I now think of as ‘the inflammatory response’; the fierce pushback that systems sometimes unleash to preserve the status quo. I remember one early encounter vividly: we gathered stakeholders to share the idea, believing they would see its value. Instead, we met palpable anger. One senior official told me it was the public sector’s business alone – despite its capacity issues – and that I would fail.
It taught me that new ideas often meet resistance, and that holding your nerve isn’t just something you do at the start, but something you return to, again and again.
Staying the course hasn’t just required persistence: it has demanded courage of those involved. Along the way, I’ve faced hostility, exclusion, and, at times, targeted efforts to undermine my work and credibility. Some of those moments left lasting marks – not just for what was said, but for who stayed silent. Even now, I sometimes hesitate to speak openly about those experiences. There’s a learned instinct to hold back, to avoid being seen as disruptive, to protect relationships, to keep the peace.
But I’ve come to believe that silence doesn’t keep things safe. It just makes them harder to change. And I didn’t come into this work to keep things as they are.
The greatest privilege of this journey has been learning through doing: showing up each day, failing, adjusting, and trying again. It has taught me to be fully present and build a stronger relationship with myself. Authenticity is not an endpoint but a daily practice of listening, reflecting, and choosing to keep going.
Starting from nothing – just an idea – required us to be creative and resourceful. We hosted a national conference in our first year with a small grant and somehow secured world-class speakers. We achieved things that, on paper, should have been out of reach. But passion makes the impossible slightly more likely.
What kept me going was a crystal-clear purpose. I’d been through a period of trauma and depression, and it was through support, volunteering, connection with others, and time outdoors that I gradually rebuilt my confidence. I was the beneficiary of kindness, and I wanted to pay it forward. That desire to pay it forward became the foundation for the innovations we built, including one of our proudest milestones.
One of the proudest moments in our journey came when we developed and scaled our social prescribing initiative in collaboration with multiple GP practices, something we believe was the first of its kind at scale. It was a monumental effort: to imagine together, and to open new pathways to health and wellbeing. While we were informed by the limited evidence available at the time, the real driving forces were imagination, creativity, and the lived experiences of the people we worked with. We tested, we iterated, we listened, we learned together.
The real test of innovation, though, is how it lands in people’s lives. And then, one evening at a local community event, a woman stood up to speak. She said her elderly father had received our support. He had been feeling lonely, and his spirit was weak. Through our work together, he had started to socialise again. He was attending local groups, smiling more, reconnecting with life. “He’s got a spring in his step,” she said. “And a zest for life again.”
In that moment, everything landed. All the frameworks, data and planning faded into the background. What remained was the realisation that the true measure of our work is in these personal transformations – in the quiet reawakening of someone’s spirit, the renewed joy in their eyes. That’s what we’re really building.
Another defining moment was standing in front of the health secretary, presenting our innovations. I felt, in that moment, something shift, a realisation that it is possible to create a centre of gravity in the world. That starting small, thinking big, and taking meaningful action can ripple outwards and shape wider change.
There is no map, no fixed formula. There is only the road you walk, and the integrity you bring to each step. I’ve learned that collaboration is not optional, it’s essential. That truth, even when uncomfortable, is a gift. That kindness is a form of courage. And that it’s not just about the outcomes, it’s about how you show up along the way.
I’ve seen that social entrepreneurship is more than starting a business with a cause. It’s a lifelong commitment. It’s a heads, hearts and hands endeavour: understanding systems, connecting with people, and rolling up your sleeves to get things done.
Twenty years on, these experiences have shaped some of the most important lessons I’ve learned:
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Collaboration creates lasting change: no one does it alone.
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Resistance is part of the journey: every new idea faces pushback, so persistence is essential.
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Kindness is a quiet form of courage: compassion can transform people and systems.
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Authenticity is a daily practice: showing up honestly matters as much as any outcome.
To those just starting out: stay with the problem, stay close to your values – and keep walking. If these years have taught me anything, it’s that the path appears when we walk it, together.
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From an article from Pioneers Post, 18/02/2026