Incorporating social values into a sound business model is both endlessly challenging and one of the most important tasks that business owners, even cooperative business owners, face, and it is in that context that I read Janis Risch’s essay of concern in last month’s Shuttle. She briefly traces the history of Weavers Way and other co-ops from the 1970s into the 21st century, and worries that we’re moving toward the indefensible position of making our co-op a place where only the affluent can afford to shop. 

She did a market-basket comparison with five national chain grocers, and our prices were the worst until she factored in the various discounts available to some of our members, and even then we trend high. She expresses a concern shared by many. 

The early days of both Weavers Way and Mariposa Co-op in West Philadelphia were, per my recollection, geared toward bypassing every middleman they could find and selling with almost no markup in a tiny, low-rent storefront. Minimal refrigeration kept the product line small, and free labor was required in exchange for the low prices. Everyone was happy, but everyone could fit into a pretty small room. While Weavers Way slowly grew, many other co-ops closed their doors. It seemed that many customers eventually concluded that those co-op prices, measured not in dollars but in labor hours, were too high. 

At Weavers Way, we considered, and reconsidered, what it meant to provide value to a customer base caring enough to support social values, and large enough to succeed.

We were swayed not only by the unmet needs of our poorest neighbors, but also by the ills of so many parts of the food chain: the almost universal use of antibiotics in livestock production, the heedless application of toxic pesticides and fertilizers, the steady decline of food quality as produce was systematically chosen for looks and durability. 

We became aware of hard-working farmers right outside the city, and saw how their old-fashioned way with the soil and their stubbornly moral business plan kept them from competing successfully against larger and subsidized agribusinesses. It seemed natural to make the transition from circumventing all middlemen to supporting ethical ones, and soon we were figuring out how to attract customers who were drawn to those values and could afford the prices that they might entail.

The big guys, meanwhile, were more aggressive about expanding their market share, and dived head-first into the scramble to be the best at what most people seemed to want in a food store: low prices. Buying cheap food was their mantra, and they didn’t care about too much else. Were exploited workers harvesting cacao in Africa — or tomatoes in Florida? Was our antibiotic use becoming a medical crisis? How did sugar get into almost everything?

That wasn’t their problem, and they patted themselves on the back for coming in on budget. 

When Cesar Chavez organized the farm workers in the ’60s, he effectively wrote the obituary for cheap produce. Did people complain that he was running the risk of making vegetables something that only the affluent could afford? Well, actually, yes: Some people did. But a lot of us understood that that’s how these things work.

And don’t forget this: Weavers Way provides health insurance to the entire full-time staff. The big guys aren’t going near that one; they’d have to pass the cost on to their customers, and that’s not what their customers want. 

There’s nothing precious about selling organic black beans or antibiotic-free meat, and nothing self-serving about giving our employees a decent benefits package. It’s a shame that we need to price our products the way we do, but it’s a reality. If you want to change that, get our politicians to change the farm-subsidy formulas. Get them to expand the food-stamp program. Get them to enact better health insurance reforms. 

Don’t blame Weavers Way. 

Janis suggests that there might be a few suppliers, like Mrs. T’s pierogis, who embrace our social values and make a tasty and lower-priced product. She might be right. Suggestions like that are made all the time, and they are always taken seriously. Maybe we can find a handful of tweaks that will give our members a breather. But overall? While the big guys trash the food chain — its people and its infrastructure — co-ops work to strengthen the food chain and to convince our customers, and our neighbors who aren’t yet customers, how important that is. We don't charge more because we’re greedy or because we don’t care about the concerns of our members.

 We charge more because our values require it. 

We’re on a mission that we should be proud of.