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Sarojamma will use this money, borrowed from SKS, to stock her small store in India Michael Rubenstein
Abouleish has lofty goals for Egypt, and they spring from organic farming Scott Nelson / WPN
Hyderabad: A technician with EMRI begins his shift in a new ambulance Michael Rubenstein/Redux
Tanzania: One of Apopos local workers shows off a minesniffing rat Steve Hamm
In this emerging social sphere, there's a danger of confusing enthusiasm with effectiveness. Many social enterprises, from microfinance organizations to those aimed at purifying water or improving agriculture, aren't being built to grow large or to last. They're poorly managed, undercapitalized, or overly dependent on philanthropic handouts. In India, for example, there are an estimated 1.2 million organizations aimed at addressing social problems. "Many are just too small to be effective," says Manoj Kumar, chief executive of Naandi Foundation, a large Indian social service organization.
In a sense, the social enterprise phenomenon is like an industry just starting to take shape. Think of the early days of autos or computers, when startups tried a variety of approaches to see what worked best. For this movement to have a major impact, it needs the same kind of dynamic business climate as Detroit in the 1920s or Silicon Valley a decade ago. What's necessary—once the global financial crisis eases—is free-flowing capital, a willingness by entrepreneurs to aim high and take risks, and a level of transparency that quickly makes obvious what's working and what isn't. "You have to get beyond the gee-whiz factor of social entrepreneurship," says Michael E. Porter, a professor at Harvard Business School. "Which of these models really works? How do you create a high social value per dollar invested?"
It's difficult to prove success in such an immature field. Nobody has come up with numbers quantifying the overall impact of social entrepreneurship. Some organizations make impressive claims. Grameen Bank, the pioneer of microfinance, says it has brought 65% of its 7.5 million clients out of "extreme poverty." Yet while Grameen's home base of Bangladesh is crawling with microfinance outfits, it remains one of the poorest countries in the world, with 40% of its people under the poverty line.
At the same time, there's much disagreement over which business models are best. Grameen founder Muhammad Yunus, who won the 2006 Nobel Peace Prize for his work, argues that social businesses should not make a profit off of poor people. In other cases, people who call themselves social entrepreneurs seem to be in it mainly for the money. Banco Compartamos in Mexico, for example, charges interest rates topping 100% per year, claiming that such rates are justified because it's expensive to operate a microfinance business (BW—Dec. 13, 2007). Yunus berates for-profit outfits for charging exorbitant interest. "When you charge high rates, you're no longer microcredit. You're a loan shark," he says (see a video interview with Yunus).
To others, the profit motive is crucial for addressing the needs of poor people. C.K. Prahalad, a University of Michigan Ross School of Business professor and author of the influential book The Fortune at the Bottom of the Pyramid: Eradicating Poverty Through Profits, argues that the poor should be seen as consumers, not charity cases. Their basic needs can best be addressed by businesses that are attuned to dealing with them. "If we get entrepreneurship right, social entrepreneurship won't matter as much," he says.
Vikram Akula, a social entrepreneur based in Hyderabad, wants it both ways. He's out to prove you can make a healthy profit while serving—and not gouging—the poor. Akula grew up in Schenectady, N.Y., but returned to his native India in the mid-1990s after he got a PhD in economics from the University of Chicago and worked as a consultant at McKinsey & Co. He first worked for a government-run microfinance organization. But with limited funds, it couldn't expand fast. He says his conversion to the for-profit, faster-growth model came after an encounter with a poor woman he had to turn down for a loan because he couldn't operate in her village. "She said: 'Don't I deserve to get out of poverty, too?' " he recalls. "I decided to come up with a model that works so you don't have to say no to anybody."