Returning to India, I’m struck once again by the dramatic differences between the sights, sounds, and smells (emphasis on the smells) of Chennai and those of New York or San Francisco. The perpetual honking of auto-rickshaws and smell of spices mixed with human bodies serves as a daily reminder that this is not San Francisco and I should not treat Chennai as if it is. This is an obvious statement when observing culture, so why isn’t the same logic applied to social impact?
Why do we still operate and fund social enterprises, which are trying to achieve impact in developing countries, from the comforts of a developed world city 20,000km away?
The question is not new, but the problem persists. Many social enterprises that are aimed at improving conditions in developing countries are still operated out of cities such as New York and San Francisco, which are far removed from the center of action. Ever since social entrepreneurship became the “it” industry for generation Y, more and more young professionals have expressed an interest and have engaged in social start-ups situated in the developing world. While I am encouraged that more people are getting involved, I doubt the effectiveness of the enthusiasts who have not spent a significant amount of time in the place they’re trying to help. I do not think a week-long field visit qualifies as significant. This leads to an issue: what is often perceived as valuable by the social entrepreneur is not similarly perceived by the rural consumers. The simple fact is that it is not possible to understand the nuances of the context and in particular what the target consumer needs without investing a lot of time to experience it.
A quick story to illustrate my point: a couple of years ago, while traveling through remote areas of Xinjiang, I was invited to the house of a camel herder for tea. He lived in a one room mud house with his sister, brother-in-law and nephew. There was no running water and no furniture other than a carved dresser, which was a wedding gift. The communal outhouse of their village was a small bus shelter like structure with holes in the ground, that was 0.5km from the village. What would a someone who never interacted with them propose to install to “better” their quality of life? I would bet that a public toilet would be at the top of the list. What did the village choose to value instead? Television. The village had one windmill generating electricity, enough to power the one television set so that they could all watch CCTV dramas. Instead of spending their resources on running water or using the electricity for light or heating, they choose entertainment. And the choice becomes easy to understand when you spend time in their lonely remote part of the world. TV is their link to the world and to a little diversion and that marginal value is incredibly underestimated by those of us who don’t live there.
Coming back to India, I am looking forward to spending my time learning the context and understanding a different set of values. The social entrepreneur sector should not be about what we think the people need, but about how to better provide access to those things that the people tell us they need. The first step to figuring the latter out is by going to the source — by being here. I would encourage everyone who professes passion and interest in this sector to commit themselves to learning and reshaping their thoughts around what the Bottom of the Pyramid needs are by dedicating the time to truly immerse themselves locally and experiencing it firsthand. Until that happens, I remain skeptical of the effectiveness of arm-chair social enterprise supporters.
