Stirred by Necessity and Promise
by Susan Witt
Bob Swann always had a project. I first met him
at a dinner and song party in New Hampshire in 1967.
At the time he and the economist Ralph Borsodi were raising
money through their newly formed International Independence
Institute (III) to create a low-interest loan fund for farmers
in India. Vinoba Bhave’s land reform movement
(known as Gramdan) had helped secure land for the farmers,
but they had no tools to work the land, and the 100% interest
rate offered by local loan sharks was too high a price for
the farmers to pay. So the migration from villages
to cities continued.
Bob and Borsodi met with small groups in church basements,
sometimes driving for hours to present their proposal.
I was twenty-one and deeply engaged by my studies of philosophy
and literature. These economic theories held little
interest for me, but one thing impressed me in their plan:
the funds would not be lent to isolated farmers in scattered
villages but rather to the farmers of a whole village.
Working with Vinoba and his associates, the III would seek
villages with strongly established social systems
(Borsodi was especially interested in family planning) and
a vibrant cultural life characterized by good schools, fine
craftsmanship, song, and celebration. When the cultural
and social elements of village life are in tact, then economic
ventures have sound ground to flourish and take root: it
takes a village to support a farmer. Small loans placed
in such circumstances are homeopathic in their influence,
fostering established businesses that have a high probability
of repaying debt.
In 1977 I again heard Bob speak, this time via radio from
the Cambridge Forum. He was garnering support for
Fritz Schumacher’s project to bring intermediate technology
to the villages of India. Bob told the story of a
large brick factory built in India with foreign capital,
intended as a model development project. When the
factory was finished, it was discovered that there were
no roads leading to or from the factory suitable for transporting
the large quantity of bricks capable of being manufactured
there. The factory stood empty, a monument to inappropriate
planning.
In place of the factory Schumacher was encouraging the
use of a small-scale brick-making technology that could
be employed on site in each village as demand for bricks
dictated, eliminating the need for long-distance transportation.
As a designer and builder of affordable housing, Bob was
excited by the possibilities of such a locally-based, user-friendly
technology.
The details of the technology failed to interest me, but
the consistency of this man who persisted in his advocacy
for a just economy did stir me. My grandfather had
recently died leaving me with a $10,000 inheritance, twice
what I earned per year as a literature teacher in a small
Waldorf School. I decided to spend the next two years
writing about those working to change the economic system
to incorporate social and ecological principles. I
believed that the economic world had the strongest hold
on the American psyche and would contain the key to the
renewal or degrading of the American character and I wanted
to record the effort to bring about positive transformation.
III had been folded into the Institute for Community Economics.
I joined as a volunteer in September of 1977, the same month
that both Schumacher and Ralph Borsodi died. Bob soon
took on a new project, the establishment of the Community
Investment Fund, the first social investment fund with positive
criteria. The organization served the project, rather than
the project the organization. We took risk, dared
to venture on untrodden ground, made mistakes, and started
a movement.
In 1980 Bob and I were asked to lead and administer the
newly formed E. F. Schumacher Society. Under Bob’s
influence the organization has been project driven—breaking
new ground in community credit systems, self-financing techniques
for small businesses, community support of farming, citizen
based initiatives for creating affordable housing.
These projects engaged his energy, passion, and intellect.
But they needed a institutional home base if they were to
be replicated. The Schumacher Society grew around
them to embrace them through the irreplaceable library of
resource material, the stunning lecture program so beautifully
edited by Hildegarde Hannum, and a solid reputation as an
advocate and initiator on behalf of small communities and
local economies.
In October of 2002 when we learned that Bob’s cancer
had metastasized to his lungs and that there were no known
conventional treatments, the board of directors asked me
to help Bob prepare a final letter to members. We
imagined that he would reflect on the accomplishments of
the Schumacher Society over the preceding twenty-two years,
touch on a few important milestones, thank members for their
support, and share his wishes for the organization’s
future. I asked Bob to prepare the letter in his mind
and then dictate it to me at his own pace over the next
week. We would then edit it together to meet his satisfaction.
Bob was ready the next day. “The most important
thing for the future,” he said, “will be to
train several local communities in the making of productive
loans so that these communities can act as models for others.”
I laughed to myself, surprised that I had not anticipated
his response, which was, after all, thoroughly consistent.
He still had a project in mind—a local currency.
Thinking strategically about the next steps necessary for
a local community to issue its own currency, Bob realized
that the principles and processes of making productive loans
would need to be broadly understood within the community.
For a currency to hold its value and become a trusted medium
of local exchange, it is important that those trading with
the currency find a sufficient supply of needed items for
purchase (food, clothing, shelter, energy). The soundest
way to ensure that supply is to place the currency in circulation
through the making of productive loans. A productive
loan is one that generates more value in goods than the
value of the loan itself, as illustrated by a loan to a
baker for a new oven to increase the number of loaves baked
in a day.
New money is created at the point of making a productive
loan. This principle is at the heart of a community
learning to take charge of its own economic destiny.
Bob understood this and was asking us to reach high and
place the next block in the ongoing work to build sustainable
local economies.
If asked directly about the organization, he would have
expressed pride at the accomplishments of the E. F. Schumacher
Society; he would have given thanks for the support of its
members; he would have voiced pleasure at the beauty of
the library; he would have acknowledged his awe before the
range and quality of thought of the printed lectures; his
eyes would have filled with tears as he recalled the late
evenings stuffing envelopes, the earnest discussions, and
the shared meals with young staff members and interns, now
with families and projects of their own; and he would have
had pick-up-truck loads of good wishes for us all as we
continue to work together to fashion economies and communities
of permanence. But it would not occur to him to say
all this to you. He assumes you understand his appreciation
of you. After all you joined freely in this work,
stirred by its necessity and promise. So let’s
get on with it, applying our collective skills to the next
project. Isn’t that what we are here together
to do?
