Colossal technology corporations swallow hundreds of startups each year, like insatiable monsters from ancient myths. But unlike myths, where victims try to avoid their fate, modern startups are often born with a single purpose — to be eaten. Welcome to the world of financial cannibalism, where acquisition is not an accident or tragedy — it's a planned life cycle.
Sacrifice Factory: The "Build-to-Sell" Ecosystem
Companies used to be created to build century-long empires. Today, they often come into the world as startup victims, raised exclusively for ritual sacrifice on the altar of M&A (Mergers & Acquisitions). This isn't just a trend — it's an entire industry, a conveyor belt producing companies whose only destiny is to be swallowed.
The statistics are merciless: more than 90% of startups that receive venture funding never go public. The lion's share of "successful" ones end up in the stomachs of corporate leviathans. In Silicon Valley, this is called an exit, sugarcoating the harsh reality with corporate newspeak euphemism. But let's call things by their proper names — this isn't an exit, it's financial cannibalism in its purest form.
"Our goal is to enter the market, attract attention, and be bought by Google or Facebook within three years," one startup founder confessed to me with disarming honesty at a conference in San Francisco. This phrase didn't sound like an admission of weakness, but rather a rational business strategy. And yes, he actually did it — his AI startup was acquired by a tech giant for a sum with eight zeros just two and a half years later.
Moral Gray Zone: Is it Ethical to Build Just to be Eaten?
The startup world has transformed into a moral gray zone, where the key indicator of success is not creating value for users or society, but the ability to attract the attention of a corporate predator. Ask yourself: if a company is initially created as an appetizing snack for a tech giant, how sincerely do its founders believe in solving the problem they so pathetically preach about in their pitches?
Imagine a doctor who treats not for the patient's recovery, but to sell their organs on the black market. Absurd? How is that different from a founder who builds a product not for users, but so that their technology becomes a tasty morsel for Google or Amazon?
"We're not trying for users, but for corporate scouts," confessed the CTO of one "promising" AI startup to me in a bar after his third glass. "Our growth metrics are nothing more than makeup for selling the bride. As soon as the deal closes, half the features will be cut, the team disbanded, and the technology integrated into the acquirer's ecosystem. Users? They're just expendable material in this game."
This resembles voluntary organ donation, except instead of saving others' lives — it's about accumulating capital and increasing the capitalization of corporate monsters. And, as with donation, voluntariness here is a conditional concept, dictated by a system where alternatives either don't exist or are economically unprofitable.
Innovation Cannibalism: Who and What is Actually Being Devoured?
What happens to technology after acquisition? Statistics show that up to 70% of acquired startups turn into digital compost — their products are shut down, teams disbanded, and technologies either integrated into the acquirer's ecosystem or simply shelved so they don't interfere with monetizing existing products.
When Facebook buys another potential Instagram-killer, it's not to develop innovative ideas, but to eliminate competition at its root. When Google acquires an AI startup, it often means not accelerating innovation, but controlling so that these innovations don't fall into competitors' hands.
This system creates an innovation deadlock paradox: the more successful the ecosystem is at creating startup snacks, the less it promotes real, breakthrough innovations. Why risk creating something truly revolutionary when it's much easier and safer to develop an attractive "feature" that a giant will buy?
"We're not inventors, but hermit crabs," remarked one serial entrepreneur with sad irony. "We find a beautiful shell (idea), polish it to a shine, and then sell it to a collector with deep pockets. The difference is that crabs change shells for survival, while we do it for another round in the game of 'who becomes a millionaire faster'."
Investment Darwinism: Who Really Runs the Show?
Behind the scenes of this financial cannibalism theater stand the real directors — venture capitalists, for whom a quick exit has become not just preferable, but the only acceptable scenario. The business model of a venture fund requires quick returns on investment — ideally within 5-7 years. Building a sustainable business can take decades, but who's going to wait that long?
"We're not interested in companies planning organic growth and sustainable development," a partner at one of the leading venture funds frankly told me. "We need startups with aggressive growth strategies that will either soar to the skies or spectacularly burn within three to five years. And best of all — those that can quickly sell for a good multiplier."
This creates a perverted system of incentives: investment Darwinism, where it's not the most useful or innovative projects that survive, but those best packaged for sale. Venture capital, originally created to support bold ideas, has turned into a factory producing attractive objects for acquisition.
The Psychology of the Modern Founder: Between Dream and Pragmatism
What happens to the psychology of an entrepreneur when a successful exit is considered not building a sustainable business, but selling it? This fundamentally changes the very nature of entrepreneurship, transforming it from a creative process into a cynical game by the rules of corporate strategists.
"I sold my first startup for $40 million and thought I would now live the life," says one serial entrepreneur. "But within six months, I was already launching a new project. Not out of passion for the idea, but because I didn't know who I was without this race. It's like a drug — build, sell, repeat. We're addicted to the process itself, not the result."
The cult of serial entrepreneurship creates a generation of businesspeople who never see the full life cycle of their creations. They are like parents giving children up for adoption right after birth — possibly providing them with a better future from a financial perspective, but depriving themselves of the experience of growing something truly great.
This culture also creates a gap between rhetoric and reality. Publicly, founders talk about "changing the world" and "solving global problems," while privately discussing strategies to attract potential buyers' attention. This creates an existential crisis that many drown out with either cynicism or self-deception.
The Social Price: Who Pays the Bills?
Financial cannibalism has its price for society. When a country's innovation potential is optimized not for solving real problems, but for creating attractive acquisition targets, we all become poorer — not in monetary terms, but in technological and social terms.
Imagine how many potentially revolutionary products were buried in corporate basements after acquisition? How many technologies that could have improved millions of lives were acquired merely to prevent their development by competitors?
This system also intensifies economic inequality. Wealth concentrates in the hands of a narrow circle of founders, investors, and corporate executives, while ordinary employees of acquired startups often find themselves on the street a year or two after the "successful exit."
"After we were bought, our entire product was shut down after 14 months," recalls a former engineer of an acquired startup. "The founders bought houses in Palo Alto and new Teslas, while we, ordinary developers, received small bonuses and pink slips. Meanwhile, our technology, which we worked on through the nights, just lies dead weight because it didn't fit into the buyer's product strategy."
DeflationCoin: An Antidote to Financial Cannibalism?
Against this bleak backdrop, alternative models are emerging, trying to break the vicious circle. One of them is DeflationCoin, a cryptocurrency with algorithmic reverse inflation, building a diversified ecosystem with a long-term perspective.
Unlike typical startups, DeflationCoin is initially oriented toward creating an entire economic ecosystem, not a quick sale. Its model involves the gradual development of various directions — from educational gambling to social networks and trading platforms, united by a single currency.
Mechanisms like "smooth unlock" and "smart staking" create economic incentives for long-term participation, not speculative trading. This is an example of how a technology business can be built with the mindset not of a quarterly report or quick exit, but a ten-year perspective.
Of course, this model has its own challenges and contradictions. But its very existence shows that alternatives to financial cannibalism are possible if we are ready to rethink the very philosophy of creating and developing technology companies.
A Choice That Defines the Future
Financial cannibalism is not an inevitable evil, but the result of the ecosystem's collective choice. Venture investors could encourage long-term sustainable development instead of quick exits. Founders could optimize not for sale, but for creating value. Corporations could see acquired startups not just as assets for inventory, but as sources of new culture and innovation.
Ultimately, the question of the ethics of the "build-to-sell" model is a question about what kind of future we are building. Do we want to live in a world where technologies develop exclusively in the interests of corporate giants, or in a world where innovations serve broader human goals?
Perhaps we should pay attention to alternative models like DeflationCoin, which show that even in a world obsessed with short-term profit, it's possible to build with a decades-long perspective. After all, true innovation is not just a new technology, but a new way of thinking about how this technology fits into the broader context of human existence.