Green, fair, and fun
When I get up in the morning and open my closet door, I see a sign that
says, “Good morning, beautiful business.” It’s a daily reminder to me of just
how beautiful business can be when we put our creativity, our energy, and
our care into producing a service or product for our community.

Economic exchange can really be one of the most meaningful
of human interactions. When I see that sign in the morning, I
think about the farmers out in the fields picking fresh fruits and
vegetables to bring into the cafe that day, and I think about the
farm animals—the pigs and cows and chickens out there in the
pasture—enjoying fresh air and sunshine. I think of our goat
herder, Douggie Newbold, who kisses her goats’ ears because
she says it makes the cheese better. I think of the bakers coming
in to put the cakes and pies in the oven and the maintenance
crew making sure everything is clean and repaired. I think of
the Indians down in Chiapas, Mexico, picking the organic coffee
beans for our morning cup.

Business is about relationships. Money is simply a tool. Business
is about relationships with everyone we buy from, sell to,
and work with, and about our relationship with Earth itself. My
business is the way I express my love for the world, and that’s
what makes it a thing of beauty.

A sense of place
The first time I walked onto the street where I live and work
today, I was enchanted. The narrow tree-lined street with a
row of charming, somewhat run-down Victorian brownstone
houses was a little oasis from the unfriendly institutional feeling
that surrounded it. Just after I moved into an apartment
there, I learned that the entire block was condemned to be torn
down to make way for a shopping mall. How could these lovely
brownstones be demolished and local business owners forced
out so chain stores and fast-food restaurants could be built? I
was outraged. This must have been my first BALLE moment.

I eagerly joined our local community group organized to
fight the demolition and save our homes and businesses. We
developed an alternative proposal to the shopping mall based
on the vision of urban activist Jane Jacobs, author of The Death
and Life of Great American Cities, who fought to save her community
in Greenwich Village from the wrecking ball.

Jacobs wrote about the importance of mixed use: communities
prospering with a diverse and lively mixture of residential
and retail, where people could live, work, go to school, and find
leisure activities in walkable communities. Jacobs challenged
the urban renewal movement of the ’50s and ’60s, where whole
neighborhoods were razed, destroying vibrant
communities and thriving personalized local
businesses to build sterile, high-rise office buildings
and housing projects. Accessible communities were
replaced by car-dependent suburbs, where housing
plans and shopping malls destroyed rich farmlands for
no more than what Jacobs called cheap parking.

Studies show that it was this time in the ’50s, when
people were separated by migration to the suburbs, that
happiness in American society began to decline. People no
longer worked in the same community in which they lived.
Work life and family life became disconnected. It was also
the time of increased industrialization of agriculture when
farmers, stewards of the land, began to be forced off their
farms by corporate farms and developers, and we lost this
personal link with the land and with our food.

The disconnect
Today we no longer know who grows our food, who bakes
our bread, who brews our beer, who sews our clothes, or who
builds our houses. We’ve become disconnected from each
other and from our places. Without direct relationships,
few of us think of the consequences that our economic
transactions have on other people, on communities, animals,
and nature.

Like the traditional businesses—family farms, inns, and
shops—I live above the White Dog Cafe in the old-fashioned
way. Living and working in the same community has
not only given me a stronger sense of place, but a different
business outlook. Making business decisions in the best
interest of the common good comes naturally when those
affected are my friends, neighbors, and employees. There’s
a short distance between me, as the business decisionmaker,
and those affected by my decisions, a basic principle
of BALLE.

As a small-business owner, I am more likely to make decisions
from the heart. One example is the concept of paying
a living wage. When I first heard about this, I had the typical
businessperson’s knee-jerk reaction—no one’s going to tell
me how much to pay my staff. But one day I was down in

the kitchen and, just by coincidence, three
young men looked up at me while they
were prepping vegetables, and I thought to
myself, of course I want these three young
men to make a living wage. How could I think
otherwise? For someone to work 40 hours a week
in the White Dog Cafe and not to be able to buy food
and pay rent was unimaginable. Of course I want to pay a living
wage. What was I thinking?

On another occasion, I was influenced by my direct relationship
with nature. I had heard about the problem of global
warming and the idea of sustainable energy. I understood the
principles intellectually, but I hadn’t been moved yet, until there
was a drought in Pennsylvania about eight years ago. I went up to
my special little place where I hike and found that the leaves were
falling off the trees in July. All the beautiful ferns were crumpled
up like brown tissue paper. The creek was dry as a bone with just
dust on the rocks. It was as though the woods expressed this
stress, and I became a tree hugger—literally! I went over to this
big oak tree, and I hugged it. And I thought, “Oh my God, this
is what it’s going to be like with global warming, with droughts
and fires in some parts of the world, and floods and storms in
others.” I put my face against the bark and promised I would do
something about global warming. So I went back to town and
told my office to find out how we could sign up for alternative
energy, and we became the first business in Pennsylvania to get
100 percent of our electricity from renewable sources.

But when a business continually grows larger and larger, that
distance between decision-maker and those affected grows longer.
And yet business schools still teach grow or die, and bigger is
better, rather than that small is beautiful. Success in our society,
in our business world, is measured by material gain. We’re taught
the false premise that economic growth benefits everyone, yet
continual growth is destroying the planet, and it’s the rich that
get richer while the wealth for the rest is actually declining.

Though the U.S. comprises less than five percent of the world
population, we use more than 25 percent of natural resources,
we produce more than 25 percent of the pollution, and we jail
more than 25 percent of the world’s incarcerated people.

The pursuit of happiness
Even with all that material wealth and consumption, studies
show that Americans are less happy than we were 50 years ago,
and less happy than our European counterparts. And we’re less
healthy, as well: Our unhealthy diet of fats and sugars has caused
an epidemic of obesity.

There was a time when I questioned my success because I
didn’t have more than one restaurant. But I made a conscious
decision to stay small because I realized that by being one special
restaurant, I would be able to maintain what was really important
to me: the authenticity of the relationships I had with my
customers, staff, suppliers, and community. I came to understand
that success could be measured in other ways besides growing
materially—by increasing knowledge, expanding consciousness,
developing creativity, deepening relationships, increasing happiness
and well-being, and having more fun.

Some people say my real profession is using good food to lure
innocent customers into social activism.

Shift happens
Two events took place in the fall of 1999 that caused me to
direct my full attention to creating a national movement. The
first one was the massive protests in Seattle against the World
Trade Organization. I didn’t know enough to attend at the time,
but my daughter was present, and I learned from her about the
danger of corporate rules that override locally legislated rules
protecting our environment and our workers. The Seattle protest
had environmentalists, labor union leaders, farmers, teachers,
and professors, but there was no clear voice of progressive business.
We were all protesting against corporate globalization, but
there was no alternative vision. So I thought: How can we direct
positive energy towards building an alternative to corporate
globalization?

Only days after Seattle, the second event happened. I learned
that Ben & Jerry’s was to be sold to Unilever. Of course, it was a
forced buyout. When it finally sank in, I literally sat up in bed in
the middle of the night and said, “Oh my gosh, they’ve got Ben &
Jerry’s!” Ben & Jerry’s had always been the leader in our socially
responsible business movement. It was from Ben & Jerry’s that
I first learned of the concept of the multiple bottom line that
measures not just profit but our impact on society.

But since the advent of the responsible business movement,
even though much progress had been made in the concept of
multiple bottom line, the environmental crisis had worsened,
wealth inequality was worse, family farms were being put out of
business by factory farms, family businesses by chain stores and
Wal-Marts, and other company models of social responsibility
had been sold to multinationals, adding to the concentration of
wealth and power that the movement was organized to combat
in the first place. Odwalla juice sold to Coca-Cola, Rhino Records
to Time Warner, Cascadian Farms to General Mills, and more
recently, Stoneyfield Farms to Groupe Danone, Tom’s of Maine
to Colgate, and the Body Shop to L’Oreal.

Bigger isn’t better, only bigger
I could see that the socially responsible business movement I
had been a part of for years was continuing
to use the old paradigm of continual growth
to measure our success. And it had been neglecting
important issues like a sense of place,
appropriate scale, and ownership. Democracy
depends on having many owners—the more
owners, the more freedom and equality.

So now the movement for responsible business
has two fronts: those bringing reforms in
the large corporations, and those of us that are
working to build an alternative to corporate
globalization through the local living economy
movement.

That’s why six years ago, in the fall of 2001,
I co-founded BALLE. I started with a simple
premise: An environmentally, socially, and
financially sustainable global economy needs
to be based on a network of sustainable, local
economies. In living economies, basic needs are
produced at home, while what is not available
locally is bought through fair-trade relationships
so that it supports the local communities
where products originate. BALLE is now an alliance
of more than 55 local business networks
in Canada and the U.S., comprised of more
than 15,000 locally owned, community-based
businesses.

Building local economies not only reduces
carbon emissions but it prepares us for a world
affected by climate change by reducing our
reliance on long-distance corporate supply
chains easily interrupted by adverse weather
and social upheaval.

The local living economy movement is essentially
about decentralization and localization:
localization of business ownership to bring
economic control back to our communities
from faraway boardrooms; localization of energy
sources so that we’re not dependent on oil
from faraway places and every community has
access to locally produced renewable energy;
localization of our food systems so that we have
food security; localization and decentralization
of communications, promoting independent
media free from corporate control; localization
of culture in order to protect local cultures
from corporate monoculture; localization of
politics to align economic development with
local business ownership and green regional economies; localization of leadership,
to have many local heroes rather than national icons. Perhaps most importantly,
developing communities around the world that have local food, water, and energy
security creates the foundation for world peace.

The Bioneers
Bioneers (www.bioneers.org) is a nonprofit organization that provides a forum
for envisioning and co-creating the future. Connecting visionaries and crosspollinating
across disciplines, it brings people together, “weaving interests
in the environment, health, social justice, and spirit on a broad, progressive
framework.” A sensitivity to interdependence informs its multifaceted Earthfriendly
mission.

Founded in 1990 by Kenny Ausubel and Nina Simons to promote social and
environmental change, Bioneers’ annual conference in San Rafael, Calif., brings
together “scientific and social innovators” to address modern challenges.

Among hundreds of earth-changing visionaries at the 2007 conference, the
13 Indigenous Grandmothers shared their wisdom. The synergy created by this
multi-ethnic, multidiscliplined gathering transcends present culture, and not to
diminish the outstanding work and dedication of the other heavy-hitting presenters,
there are a few names you might instantly recognize: Alice Walker, Joanna
Macy, Jean Shinoda Bolen, Eve Ensler, and Byron Katie.

If you feel ready to be challenged and inspired,
you might consider attending the 19th
annual Bioneers Conference, Oct. 17-
19, 2008, in San Rafael, Calif.

Self-reliance starts at home
If poverty is not being able to provide for oneself, then community self-reliance
is our greatest wealth. Community self-reliance offers a meeting place for the left
and the right—for liberals and conservatives—because it combines the values of
self-reliance favored by the right with the values of community and cooperation
favored by the left. Community self-reliance is something we can all commit to
working on together as we build a secure future in these changing times of climate
change and rising costs of oil.

As we build this new economy, this is the time to make great strides toward economic
justice. It’s important that we help those who have been left out of the global
industrial economy find ownership opportunities in the local living economies. We
can do this by directing local government and capital towards helping minority entrepreneurs start green businesses in their communities.

We need money to grow living economies. Many of us put
our savings into the stock market, but that takes money out
of our communities. When I realized that, I disinvested even
from screened funds and stocks, and put my savings entirely in
a Philadelphia reinvestment fund where my money is loaned
out to small businesses and community organizations in my
own region. This fund also provided the money to build the
wind turbines in Pennsylvania that produce the wind energy
we use at the White Dog Cafe. I call this getting a living return,
not only a financial return. It includes the benefit of living in a
more sustainable, local economy.

During debates about climate change and the need to cut carbon
emissions, there’s often a focus on the costs and hardships
of moving to a low-carbon economy, but there’s little talk of the
benefits to our quality of life. We’re not talking about going back
to the cave age. Caroline Lucas describes a wonderful vision of
gathering with our good friends and family over delicious and
nutritious locally produced food, great meals that we share in a
warm, well-insulated home, which we get to by riding bikes or
walking along uncongested streets or taking public transportation.
People go to farmers’ markets not just to get food but for
the sense of community and sense of place that come from it.

Taking it to the streets
In her new book, Dancing in the Streets, Barbara Ehrenreich talks
about the importance of “collective joy” and how often it is missing
in our industrialized, materialistic society that, she believes,
has caused an epidemic of depression in our society. We’ve come
to think that a good time has to mean spending a lot of money
to travel and be entertained. We can create more fun in our own
communities rather than depending on expensive vacations to
faraway places. An example of creating “collective joy” for me is
the many block parties we put on at the White Dog, where we
play music, do skits, and dance in the street.

These are celebrations that increase happiness and build community
and historically have been put on by local businesses
and like community. Building a sustainable and inclusive local
economy is not only about our responsibility to future generations,
it’s also about our reconnection to place and with each
other as we build joyful communities, creating local identity
through local musicians, artists, and creative entrepreneurs,
increasing happiness and fulfillment that come with working
collaboratively toward a shared vision.

The local living economy movement is about maximizing relationships,
not maximizing profits. It’s about growth of consciousness
and creativity, not brands and market share; democracy
and decentralized ownership, not concentrated wealth; a living
return, not the highest financial return; a fair price, not the lowest
price; sharing, not hoarding; simplicity, not gluttony; life-serving,
not self-serving; partnership, not domination; cooperationbased,
not competition-based; win-win exchange, not win-lose
exploitation; family farms, not factory farms; biodiversity, not
mono-crops; cultural diversity, not monoculture; creativity, not
conformity; slow food, not fast food; our bucks, not Starbucks;
our mart, not Wal-Mart; valuing life over lifestyle; and, as the
Earth Charter says, being more, not having more.

All about the love
At its heart, our movement for local living economies is about
love, and it’s love that can overcome the fear that many may
feel in the hard days ahead brought on by climate change and
environmental collapse. In my own experience, it was my love of
animals that motivated me to challenge the factory farm system
and begin building a local living economy in my region.

Our power comes from protecting what we love—love of
place, people, animals, nature—all of life on this beautiful planet
Earth. And I would say for the entrepreneurs among us, it also
is about our love of business. Business has been corrupted as an
instrument of greed rather than one of service to the common
good, yet we know that business is beautiful when we put our
creativity and care into offering a product or service that our
community really needs.

Our materialistic society has desensitized us to the suffering
that underlies our industrial economic system. We’re also
desensitized by a false idea of masculinity based on control and
domination. We need a more feminine, caring, nurturing approach
to life, to bring forth the goddess in each of us—men and
women—to allow peace and harmony to come to the world.

We must open our hearts, eyes, and ears to hear the cry of the
pigs in the crates, a cow for her calf, animals in laboratories and
the fur industry; to feel the suffering of the men, women, and
children enslaved in sweatshops in the rug, diamond, and coal
industries, and in chocolate production; to see the suffering of
the people of Iraq, Nigeria, the rain-forest tribes, and everywhere
where there are oil and natural resources that are being exploited
and fought over. Let us hear the cry of the whales, the polar bears,
the trees, and the natural world dying all around us.
What revives energy and passion for all that we must do in this
movement is simply to allow ourselves to love what we love, and
in so doing find our place as humans in the family of life.


Judy Wicks is the owner of White Dog Cafe in Philadelphia, Penn., and cofounder
of the Business Alliance of Local Living Economies (BALLE). For more
information, visit www.judywicks.com.