Why I Stopped Accepting to Play the Jury Role in University Competitions

Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of sitting on dozens of juries for university pitch competitions, hackathons, innovation days, and entrepreneurship challenges. It was energizing at first—a way to give back, to support students, and to stay connected to emerging ideas. But recently, I’ve made a conscious decision to stop accepting invitations to judge these events. It’s not because I’ve lost faith in youth potential—quite the opposite. It’s because I’ve grown increasingly uncomfortable with how these formats often fail the very students they claim to empower.

The Illusion of Meritocracy

In theory, competitions reward the best ideas, the sharpest minds, and the most promising solutions. But in practice, they often favor those who are the best at performing, pitching, or speaking the language of the jury—usually professionals like me with venture capital, corporate, or consulting backgrounds. These formats unintentionally exclude students with great ideas but different communication styles, linguistic challenges, or simply less social capital.

I’ve watched brilliant students lose because they weren’t "charismatic" enough, or because their deck wasn’t designed to impress. I’ve seen juries reward ideas that are easier to explain over those that are genuinely more innovative but harder to grasp in a five-minute pitch. The game is often more about optics than substance—and that’s a game I no longer want to legitimize.

Yes, some will say that competitions build useful skills—resilience, public speaking, handling pressure—and they do, in some cases. I’ve witnessed students gain confidence and recognition through them. But for every student who grows, there are many more who quietly walk away discouraged, feeling they weren’t good enough based on a 10-minute interaction and a scorecard.

Innovation Needs Safe Spaces, Not Stages

Real innovation doesn't always emerge in competition. It grows in communities. It grows in safe environments where students can take risks without being rated, compared, or eliminated. By framing creativity as a contest, we end up reinforcing a mindset where failure is shameful, not a part of the process. And that’s dangerous.

I believe in coaching, mentoring, and collaborating. I’d rather help a student iterate an idea over weeks than evaluate it in ten minutes and assign it a number. Judging turns mentors into gatekeepers. I want to be a gardener, not a referee.

The Performative Nature of It All

Let’s be honest: many of these competitions are more about the institutions than the students. They look good on social media. They make sponsors feel involved. They allow jurors to feel like they’re contributing to the ecosystem. But how many of these events lead to actual support for the winning teams? How many winners get follow-up mentoring, funding, or implementation help? And what about the ones who didn’t win, but might have gone further with the right kind of support?

Too often, the event ends and students are left with a certificate and a few LinkedIn photos—no real pathway forward. I’ve grown tired of being part of that cycle.

Toward More Human-Centered Engagement

I haven't stopped working with students—I’ve just changed the way I do it. I run workshops. I offer one-on-one coaching. I collaborate on real-world innovation programs with long-term goals and meaningful feedback loops. I’m interested in empowering students to think critically, to prototype responsibly, and to stay curious—not to beat their peers on stage.

I respect those who still see value in competitions, and I understand why they exist. But for me, the format no longer aligns with the kind of ecosystem I want to help build—one where students aren’t reduced to points, rankings, or applause, but seen as emerging innovators on their own journey.

I’ll continue to support universities and student innovation—just not as a juror behind a table. That model, for me, feels more extractive than generative. I believe in building ecosystems where students don’t compete for our approval but collaborate toward shared impact. And that starts by redesigning the spaces where we engage with them.