Social Entrepreneurs Turn Business Sense to Good

(page 4 of 4)

Browse Issues

Browse the BusinessWeek Archive

Related Items

• Video: Yunus on Microfinance

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 Apopo’s local workers shows off a minesniffing rat Steve Hamm

Story Tools

• post a comment
• e-mail this story
• print this story
• order a reprint
• suggest a story
• digg this
• save to del.icio.us

So Weetjens and Cox decided to run Apopo more like a business and generate their own money from operations. Earlier this year they hired Virtue Ventures, a consulting group specializing in social enterprises, to help them write a business plan. And in the summer they brought four interns from the MBA program at Oxford University to their headquarters in Tanzania to help size up their money-earning potential. Options include expanding mine-clearing operations to the Middle East, getting into the cargo-inspection business, and forging aggressively into disease detection. It turns out the rats can sniff out the presence of tuberculosis, and perhaps other diseases, at costs dramatically cheaper than traditional laboratory tests.

The pressure of switching to a for-profit model is evident during a meeting of the two founders and their student advisers in Morogoro, Tanzania. The six gather for their weekly progress discussion in the war room, where interns work in stifling heat under two fast-spinning ceiling fans. It's not clear how big the long-term cost differential will be for their rats compared with other outfits that use European-trained dogs for mine-clearing. Cox cautions against exaggerating their advantages: "We don't want to compare the worst dogs with the best rats."

Weetjens, the organization's front man, says it now looks like Apopo may continue the mine-clearing operations on a not-for-profit basis but try to turn disease detection into a profit-maker. Their tests with Tanzanian health-care clinics are producing strong results in cost and quality.

For all the challenges that Apopo faces, there is anecdotal evidence that social enterprises can grow large and balance their social and economic imperatives. But it requires a lot of time and effort.

That was the case with Sekem Group, an Egyptian conglomerate with businesses in organic farming, garment manufacturing, herbal medicines, and food processing and distribution. The family-controlled company got off to a fragile start in 1977 in the desert 50 kilometers northeast of Cairo. Egyptian-born founder Ibrahim Abouleish had been managing a pharmaceutical-research facility in Austria but returned to his homeland after he realized that two decades of socialism had ruined the economy. His goal was to convert the country to organic farming and enrich Egyptian culture with a renaissance of art and education. Abouleish chose a place in the desert far from urban influences so he could create a self-defining community. It all started in a mud hut built for him by Bedouin.

The original hut remains as part of a guest house on a campus that now includes 20 sparkling-white buildings for offices, farm operations, and factory work. Sekem has 2,500 employees, 500 acres of nearby farmland, and a vast composting operation. The company, which has been growing at 25% per year, brought in $40 million in revenues and $3 million in net income in 2007—after spending much of its operating profits on schooling and health care for employees' families. Sekem just bought 4,000 acres of arid land on the Sinai Peninsula and in the Western Desert that it plans on converting to farming.

THE NEED FOR CAPITAL

For Abouleish and his son, Helmy, who now runs day-to-day operations, more important than the financial accomplishments is the impact of Sekem on Egyptian agriculture. When done right, organic farming uses a lot less water, and farmers don't spend money on expensive and polluting herbicides and pesticides. When Sekem started operations, there was no organic farming in Egypt. Today there are several other major organic growers, and Sekem has developed a network of 800 independent farmers on 50,000 acres whose produce it exports to major grocery chains in Europe. The company's nonprofit Sekem Development Foundation runs a school, a medical center, and economic development programs in the seven villages around the campus. But Ibrahim Abouleish is not satisfied. "What we have achieved is a great model. Now we have to change the whole country," he says. He figures it could take more than 100 years to reform Egypt from the bottom up.

While Sekem shows that such enterprises can grow up and make progress, there are many economic and social hurdles that need to be cleared for this phenomenon to become powerful. Money is a major issue. While philanthropies and investors are plowing hundreds of millions of dollars into social enterprises, that's still minuscule compared with the $35 billion in venture capital invested worldwide last year.

To attract more capital, social enterprises have started trying to better quantify their results. A group spearheaded by Acumen Fund, a nonprofit supporter of social enterprises, has begun gathering an ocean of information into one massive, easily accessible database. That way, results can be monitored by the funders and investors, and social entrepreneurs can see how they stack up with their peers.

Still, it's hard to justify most social enterprises on strictly financial grounds. In many cases, investors have to accept lower returns than they would expect from traditional investments. That trade-off has tormented investors in Freeplay Energy, a social business that sells hand-crank radios and lights for people in developing countries and Western nations. The company went public in Britain in 2005, but its revenues have been disappointing, and its stock price plummeted until it was taken private again this year. "It's hard to have a social mission in a capitalistic system," says Rory Stear, Freeplay's co-founder and co-chairman.

When Ramalinga Raju, chairman of India's Satyam Computer Services (SAY), set out to improve India's woeful health-care system, he decided to bring in government as his partner. His idea was that, by combining Satyam's technology and business-operations expertise with government resources, innovative new health-care initiatives could spread rapidly. Emergency Management and Research Institute, a free ambulance service he launched in 2005 in the Indian state of Andhra Pradesh, has branched out to two other states. The government pays 95% of operating expenses. "I have no doubt that this will be a model for the rest of the world," Raju says.

Maybe. Raju's ambulance service is catching flack from rivals. Sweta Mangal, co-founder of Dial 1298 for Ambulance, which operates in Mumbai, says EMRI relies too much on government support, which might be fleeting. She also doesn't think it's affordable for governments in emerging nations to offer free ambulance service for everybody. Her company charges wealthy and middle-class patients, which subsidizes free service for poor people.

This is just one of the debates that show how unsettled the world of social enterprise is—and may remain. Until today's entrepreneurs discover which business models really work, there will be uncertainty and wasted effort. The movement is growing and taking on more ambitious projects. But from Mercy Corps' Keny-Guyer to Satyam's Raju, these entrepreneurs know most of their work still lies ahead of them.

Return to Philanthropy Table of Contents

Hamm is a senior writer for BusinessWeek in New York and author of the Globespotting blog.