I saw “42” when it came out and liked it a lot.

It is hard to stay focused on changing the world when you look around and see not only the same battles all over again, but in many cases the same increasingly elderly activists joining those battles. For me, the wave of youth activism that started with Seattle in 1999 and crested with the Occupy movement–and will return when we least expect it—is very exciting, because it means there IS a critical mass for social change one and two generations younger than us.

I also avoid burnout by regularly thinking about all the areas where we HAVE made progress. And while police violence is an area that needs a LOT of work (since the 1960s, I haven’t understood why they reach for bullets instead of stun guns first), I think about what it was like for blacks in South Africa, Rhodesia, and the American South in my own lifetime…the way the environmental movement has gone from fringe to mainstream…the shattering of the idea common when I was a kid that the only appropriate careers for women were teaching and nursing and domestic work…the relatively new understanding that domestic violence and hate speech and school bullying are crimes we don’t have to tolerate…the string of fallen-dictator dominoes around the world, from throwing off the shackles of colonialism in Africa to the Arab Spring. (We may not always find the replacement governments an improvement, but the truth is, when the people say ENOUGH, governments topple and there is a brief space for something better. Once in a while, as in Mandela’s South Africa, that better thing actually emerges victorious.)

In other words, I look around and I see that within the brief span of my own lifetime (I turn 58 on Wednesday), we’ve made very real change on many fronts, even if it feels like we’re running in place or even backsliding.

These are what gives me hope and keeps me working for peace, justice, and the planet.

The above is my response to a friend posting her response to the movie, “42,” about Jackie Robinson and the integration of baseball. She wrote,

Black Lives Mattered in that struggle against racism in baseball–perhaps the beginning of the civil rights movement…Sixty years later, same struggle. Oh, God help us win this time ’round. Does the arc of justice bend?

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On a LinkedIn discussion board, someone asked, “So, why has bettering the world become a mantra for a new generation of entrepreneurs?”

This sparked a very lively discussion, mixing the cynics and the optimists.

You can view this discussion here (you might have to join the group first).

My first comment was quick and straightforward, discussing my new work at Business For a Better World:

I’m 57 years old, been in business since 1981, and my business has *always* been about fostering a better world. This year, I took it further, beginning a campaign to show business how solving hunger, poverty, war, climate catastrophe, etc. is not only the right thing to do, but can be highly profitable (and we actually already have a lot of the technology to make it possible).

But as others responded, I felt a need to go deeper, and I want to share my responses to two of them with you:

Tim asked, “…If these entrepreneurs are so hot on giving to humanity, why not put their technologies in the public domain? There’s a topic for debate: Which is the better outcome, the Gates Foundation or Wikipedia?…”

Tim  – great question! The Gates example has always interested me, in that it follows the pattern of 100-150 years ago, when predatory ubercapitalists like Carnegie and Rockefeller began to seek out a higher purpose later in life and became uberphilanthropists–yes, some of Microsoft’s practices were quite predatory under Gates’ leadership. I can’t think of an equally prominent example in the years between the “Robber Barons” and Gates. (I also think Melinda may have had a lot to do with Gates finding HIS higher purpose–but he has fully embraced it and discovered it provides meaning in his life.) Most towns in my area of New England are still using little public libraries built with Carnegie money.

Warren Buffett is another very interesting example, but his choices and motivations, I suspect, were very different. Buffett never seemed to care personally about accumulating wealth to “better” his own life. He still lives in the simple ranch house he bought in the 1950s. And as far as I know, Berkshire Hathaway under his leadership was not a predatory company. It didn’t shock me when he gave away most of is fortune–to the Gates Foundation (which kind of brings this discussion full-circle).

But I propose that it is possible to be socially conscious from the get-go AND do quite well financially, and that getting wealthy is not a sin. Prominent examples include ice cream superstars Ben Cohen and Jerry Silverman, Yvon Chouinard of Patagonia, Anita Roddick of The Body Shop, and many others. I suspect the Chicken Soup guys (Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen) are in this category; they do not shy away from the trappings of wealth–but they also find many ways to use their wealth to better the world. Jack I know for sure started from very humble beginnings; I have no clue about Mark’s early years, nor can I quickly find anything in public sources.

Jennifer commented, “…The world is in crisis – how do we milk it for all it has now people are focusing on the bad guys that have put the world in crisis. ‘We make the world seem like we care’ – new market. But hang on – ‘we kind of do care – well some of us anyway’ – but hang on ‘the global village concept doesn’t seem to be working’ – Ok; so now what?

Let’s make the world betterment program a thing for entrepreneurs – get rich while you increase people hopes even though those hopes are false…”

Jennifer  – Yours is one of several cynical posts in this discussion, but yours is ambivalent while the others are pretty much set in stone. So I choose to engage with you. I think we need to harness the cynicism and skepticism about business’ ulterior motives to create the action we want, despite our suspicion of their motives. For me, seeking personal wealth has never been as important as making the world better. My millionaire colleagues would laugh at my income. Let them laugh! As long as I can motivate them to make a difference.

I am personally very cynical about the ability to solve our biggest problems–hunger and poverty, war and violence, catastrophic climate change–based on the ways we’ve always done it. Too often, we’ve tried to motivate on guilt, fear, and shame–and it doesn’t work.

So I’m taking a leaf from the libertarians and ubercapitalists and attempting to motivate based on self-interest. If your goal is personal material wealth and I can show you how to realize that goal by seizing the opportunity to make money, and the work that governments and NGOs have failed to do gets done, then fine, take your fortune and go live in your big house. Think about a super-profit-driven company like Walmart: not exactly a tree-hugger hangout. But Walmart realized years ago that there was a lot of money to be made selling organic foods, low-watt lightbulbs and other green products–and a lot of money to be saved implementing green into its own operations, deeply. I have many issues with Walmart in other areas, but on the environment, I give them BIG props. Working from the profit motive, they have done more to spread green consciousness *and* green *practices* through society than I have in a lifetime of speaking and writing and consulting.

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Thursday was full of extremes, with both positive and negative encounters.

On the positive side, I had two amazing one-to-one meetings: with the former mayor of a nearby town who just took a job with a green energy company, and then a few minutes later, with a life coach friend of mine. With both, we each brainstormed marketing ideas and helpful contacts for the other.

Then, a brief call with my own coach, Oshana Himot, who continues to amaze me with her sheer brilliance. My business is engaged in a major shift toward much deeper work, and she can take much of the credit. And finally, a Chamber mixer where I managed to have several substantive conversations. I was introduced to a gentleman I didn’t know who’s partnering with an organic farmer friend of mine to make tortillas using local corn. As a local food advocate, marketer, and foodie, I’m eager to help him succeed. Then was my friend who runs the local TV station, on his capital campaign and new building they’re going to construct. I offered him a resource about building deeply green, and he, out of the blue, offered to shoot a promo for me. And finally, a woman in my own town who will bring a much-needed progressive and articulate voice to the Selectboard.

But on the same day, I had three encounters with enormous stupidity.

1. We’d been contacted by a charity some time back to see if we had any goods to donate. We did indeed, and in the intervening two weeks, we’ve filled three large boxes with books and a huge trash bag of clothes. Originally, we were going to put all this in front of the garage for pickup, so we wouldn’t have to wait around. They’re not allowed to actually open the door. But since that was set up, it’s snowed several times and our garage is completely blocked off. So I called to explain that the crew would have to ring our bell, since we couldn’t put things out by the garage and we didn’t want to ruin it all by putting it right in the snow. And then I asked for a two-hour window for the pickup, so we could be sure to be here. No can do, she told me; they’ll be there any time between 8 a.m. and 6 p.m. I told her that I wasn’t going to be stuck in my house all Saturday waiting for them. Finally, after about ten minutes of back and forth, she gave me a phone number to call Saturday morning where they’d be able to narrow it down at least a little. Not exactly customer service heroism—especially considering WE’re doing THEM a favor by donating goods.

2. Between my two morning meetings, I had to walk in a busy, narrow street in the central business district of a nearby village, because one gas station owner hadn’t shoveled his side walk. I poked my head in the office and mentioned the problem. The owner growled, “It hasn’t been 24 hours.” Yet every other property owner had managed to clear the sidewalk, Guess where I’m never buying gas again as long as I live (and yes, I have been a customer there, in the past).

3. My wife and I were the only customers in a restaurant except for one person picking up a takeout order, for about 40 minutes. Just as we were about to leave, a woman showed up prepared to make a large takeout order. It was 10 minutes to 8 and they sent her away, saying they were closed. It probably would have delayed their 8 pm closing by 10 or 15 minutes and more than doubled their take for the hour. (The owner was not present). And it would have kept that customer coming back.

In all three cases, all I could do was scratch my head in amazement. I will not beat you over the head with the obvious customer service lessons from these three encounters with stupidity. Unlike the three perpetrators, you’re smart enough to figure it out.

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To lose Pete Seeger so soon after Nelson Mandela–two great champions of justice and democracy! If you want to know the true definition of an American Patriot, it’s spelled P-e-t-e  S-e-e-g-e-r. Not only was he an extremely talented musician and a devoted rabble-rouser on a host of social, labor, and especially environmental causes–for which he suffered greatly in the 1950s and ’60s–and not only can he claim a major role in cleaning up the Hudson River and co-founding the amazing Clearwater sloop and organization and folk festival…he was one of the most humble people I’ve ever met.

I used to see Pete Seeger at the Clearwater Revival, wearing a volunteer shirt and picking up trash. I got to bang a few nails with him once as he was building the Woody Guthrie (one of I think three small boats he built along with the Clearwater and the Sojourner Truth). And I interviewed at least once, saw him perform dozens of times live and numerous more on TV–growing up as a public television kid in New York City, where once the blacklist was lifted, he was frequently found on Channel 13–and hung out with him at some People’s Music Network conferences. He helped start PMN, started Sing Out! magazine, the Newport Folk Festival, a bunch of environmental and peace organizations, and many other ventures for the public good.

His 1963 Carnegie Hall concert is one of the 10 albums I’d absolutely insist on having if I were stranded on a desert island with one CD holder. Among other things, it contains the best of his dozen or so recordings of Wimoweh, long before that other group made it a top-40 hit. I own many other of his records, but that one is a standout.

 

And Pete walked his talk. Though he could certainly have afforded much grander housing, he lived for the last many decades in a small cabin outside Beacon, New York, on his beloved Hudson River, heating with wood he chopped himself. Though he could have gotten all wrapped up in ego, he spent his entire life championing newer musicians. He helped bring Bob Dylan and Tom Paxton to the world’s attention, as well as later songwriters like Dar Williams and many others.

Pete was one of three amazing lifelong activists born in the spring of 1919 who I knew personally. Miriam Leader (not much known outside of her various home communities) passed about a year ago. And Frances Crowe continues her active work for peace, justice, and the environment. The world is richer because these three people with giant hearts walked its ground. Goodbye, Pete, and thanks for all you’ve done to make my life richer. You’re probably already starting to organize amongst the angels ;-).

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One of the books I’m currently reading is Charles Eisenstein’s Sacred Economics—which makes many fascinating points about the interplay of money, attitudes, and relationships. (I’ll be reviewing it in my March newsletter; if you don’t already subscribe, please do so in the upper-right corner of this page.)

Early in the book, he talks about the gift economy, and the difference between reciprocal giving and circular giving. Reciprocal giving is closer to barter than to a true gift economy: you give something to someone, and that person reciprocates either right then, or at some future time. Until the gift is “redeemed” by the second gift, it creates a sense of obligation—kind of like what the Millionaire Mindset types call the Law of Reciprocity.

But circular giving is a completely different framework. You give something to someone, either because that person needs something you have or simply because you want to give a gift. That person will make gifts to other people who they can help. You may or may not be among the recipients. But when you have a need, someone will step forward and enable it. It’s more Karmic.

I’d never really thought about the distinction before, but I realize I’ve lived the parts of my life that are in the gift economy on the circular model. A great example (among many) is homestays. We’ve been members of the international homestay network Servas for more than 30 years, and Couchsurfing since 2009 (Note: Servas link is to the United States site, as the International is down at the moment). People stay at our house. We stay in private homes when we travel. No money changes hands. When we travel, we usually bring a small gift: a bottle of wine, a loaf of good bread, a copy of one of our books—but this is something we choose to do and is not required by either organization. Some of our guests bring gifts, some don’t.

This is not just about saving money, though that’s certainly a factor. It’s about having a visit in a place where you didn’t know anybody. Having a human connection in a private home, instead of an impersonal hotel room interchangeable with others all over the world. It’s about going someplace as a traveler and a visitor, not as a tourist—experiencing a place, if just for a couple of days,  through the eyes of people who live there. Eating their food staying in their neighborhood, playing with their kids or pets, listening to their music.

It’s very rare that our homestays are reciprocal. I think there have been about five people in all these years where first one of us visited, and then the other return the visit—and the motivation in those cases was not “you owe me,” but “we enjoyed you so much, we’d like to see you again.” It’s actually very common for people who visit us to invite us to visit them,and vice versa. If we ever make it to Berlin, we already have half a dozen families who’d be delighted to host us and see us again.

And this goes back to Eisenstein; he makes the point that money not only commoditizes goods and services (and drives uniformity over craftsmanship)—but also commoditizes relationships. We build relationships with many of the people we meet through these homestay networks. We’re on each other’s Facebook friend lists or e-mail humor or political alert lists, we send copies of our annual letter, we stay in touch if we return to those locations. In short, we’re gaining friendships—not with everyone, but with the ones where the chemistry is good, and that’s most of them.

Even in the most hospitable Bed & Breakfast, with the most delightful innkeepers, this doesn’t happen; money creates a different dynamic.

And circular gift economies are only one facet of the evolving economy. I could do another whole post on paid shared-resource economies like Zipcar and Airbnb. And one thing all of you should consider is how much more eco-friendly these are than everyone buying their own car, their own lawnmower, etc.

I haven’t gotten to the part of Sacred Economics where Eisenstein lays out his ideas for money economies that don’t devalue and dehumanize. I’m looking forward to it, and might write again here when I see what he has to say about that.

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Watch this video about the Copenhagen Wheel, a device that captures and stores energy from cyclists pedaling and coasting, and supplements pedal power on the uphills or over long distances. And then read a few of the comments.

To me, this is brilliant technology! First, it makes biking—and particularly bicycle commuting over distances of 20 to 50 miles—an attractive option for tens of thousands of people who’ve felt unwilling to try it before. That, in turn, reduces the number of cars on the road, which has dozens of advantages to the planet and to our pocketbooks. Second, it makes it possible for the moderate cyclist (like me) to go much farther by bike.

A lot of the comments are angry that this will disrupt their exercise. I think they’re not thinking about it the right way. Instead of blaming a machine for interfering with their workout, think about the ability to bike instead of drive to good riding places some distance away, or to bike much farther distances to explore an area farther out.

I do ride for exercise. And I do face a BIG hill when I go out my door. I’ve learned to manage it, but when I first moved to that area, it was very tough. Something like this would have been a nice transition as I learned to conquer that tough hill.

And for the exercise-only bikers, I have one more suggestion: write to the company and tell them you want a manual override option: an off switch, in other words. Then you have the boost when you need it.

Let’s apply this kind of creativity to every aspect of our lives! We could not only solve climate change but war, poverty, and other global issues. I wish this company much success!

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I hope Obama and the Democrats learn their lesson. when they refuse to comprise on things that should not be compromised on, when they stand up for their principles, they win.

What a great president he might have been (and perhaps still could be) if he had figured that out in 2009. There is a difference between conciliation and giving away the store, and every time he kowtowed, the other side saw him as weak, and took out their lances again to whittle things down even further.

Of course, it helped that progressives and liberals came out in force to tell him he was doing the right thing. One of the lessons Obama should have taken from the 2008 election campaign is that he can organize a large constituency that “has his back.” and we progressives can also organize to push him leftward when he dirfts like a rudderless boat in the face of pressure from the right.

We have to remember that Obamacare was a Heritage Foundation invention. The left wanted single-payer, which Obama refused to even discuss.

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Yesterday, I wrote about how much fun I have cooking and eating local organic food—and how it’s not uncommon for 80 percent of our dinners to be grown within a few miles of our house.

Today, I want to talk about what local organic food means personally, and to the planet.

For me:

  • Food that’s fun to cook and delicious to eat
  • Super-fresh, and loaded with nutrition, vitamins, and minerals (instead of toxic chemicals)
  • Very frugal
  • Children who feel a direct connection to where their food comes from and how it grows—and who have carried their food awareness into their own lives in big cities, now that they’re grown
  • Community; we always see friends when we pick up our share at the CSA farm, and they have educational programs like herb walks or food preservation workshops, potlucks and concerts once in a while

As an example of the dollars and cents, consider the six-flat of tomato plants we bought. I think we paid $3—so 50 cents per plant. Let’s amortize the fixed costs of the garden across all the crops, and add another $3 to cover the tomatoes’ share. So we’re up to $6.

Fresh local organic tomatoes are usually around $3 per pound at the local farmers  markets—so we break even on the second pound. This is a slow year; we’re only getting about a dozen tomatoes a week, perhaps four pounds. Some years we get more like 40 pounds a week. But even with this year’s limited crop, that means we’re pulling in $120 worth over a ten-week harvest season, and in a good year, that number is more like $1200. And that’s just one crop; we’re also growing broccoli, green beans, kidney beans, eggplant, kale, onions, basil, rosemary, cucumbers, zucchini, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, and peas (earlier in the year). The whole garden costs us less than $100 for the year.

We split the $600 CSA membership with another family, and we collect our share for about 23 weeks, typically getting 10-20 pounds of organic produce per week—or roughly 345 pounds for the year. If the stores averaged even $4 per pound (they’re often higher for organic), that means our $300 has turned into $1380—not bad!

Saving so much money on our local organic produce lets us justify the expense of the locally produced food craft items at the farmers markets; the cheeses and eggs are quite a bit more expensive than the industrial versions in supermarkets. But it’s worth it, because they taste so much better, feel so much better in our bodies, and help our local organic farmers stay in farming. And with those foods, a little goes a long way; $10 or $20 a week gives us all we need.

The Planet:

Now, let’s look at what my food lifestyle means to the economy and ecology of my town, and the whole country:

  • Very low carbon footprint. Instead of being shipped across the country, our food is hand-carried about 100 feet from our garden to our kitchen, or brought three miles (five kilometers) from the CSA farm either by car or bicycle. Instead of requiring huge inputs of petrochemicals and petrolabor, we work our garden by hand, except for the initial rototilling. And as vegetarians, our carbon footprint is much lower than if we ate meat (it would be lower still if we went vegan).
  • Chemical-free. No health effects from pesticides and herbicides—to me and those who share my table, or to the farmers who grow it. AND no harmful effects to the soil and the water.
  • Good for the local economy. Our farm membership fee and the dollars we spend on local dairy products, bread, and fruit stay in the community, instead of being siphoned off by a dozen middlemen and into the coffers of far-away corporations.
  • Good for farmland. Every farmer that sells food to us is a farmer who is keeping the land in agriculture instead of selling that land off for development—and every successful local organic farm is a living lesson to other farmers that they don’t need to douse the earth (and their customers’ bodies) with poisons.

Pretty cool!

Now it’s Your Turn:

Please leave a comment about how you’ve incorporated (or will start incorporating) local artisan foods into your lifestyle. How are local organic foods making a difference to you?

Still need ideas? Tomorrow’s blog will provide concrete steps you can take to green your food, even if you live in a city. I do have to warn you though: once you’ve tasted REAL food, you won’t ever be satisfied by the poor imitations that dominate the industrial food system.

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A friend sent me a link to a very interesting article, “A Locavore’s Dilemma: On the Fantasy of Urban Farming” by Will Boisvert

According to Mr. Boisvert (whose name, ironically, translates as “green woods”), we would all do more for the planet to buy big-agro chemiculture food from thousands of miles away than to develop food sources in or close to urban areas.

I’ve heard this argument before. And I do think it’s important to do our research and know the numbers; it’s important to make a business case for local food sustainability, whether urban or rural.

But I’d say Mr. Boisvert totally misses the point.

He says the most sustainable thing we can do in NYC is build more housing, to avoid further stress on the exurbs and suburbs, which are very UNsustainable. But I don’t see why it has to be housing vs. food. Build that 600-person apartment building he wants, and THEN use add urban agriculture and solar arrays to harness the roof for food and energy.

And his attack on COmmunity Supported Agriculture farms (CSAs) is just bizarre. I don’t think our annual membership fee for the organic CSA we belong to here in Massachusetts would even cover the same amount of factory food at our local supermarket, and it’s far cheaper than buying the nonindustrial stuff at Whole Foods, a pricy organic grocery, or the farmers markets.

We do need to look at the economics/carbon impact of urban agriculture and the urban food movement, and often, they’re not pretty. But no uglier than mass-scale farming.

He writes:

Hauling each spud from upstate thus requires as much fuel as moving it 585 miles by corporate semi or 2,340 miles by rail. I don’t know the numbers, but I think truck is a lot more common than rail.

If that’s true, then even with the much-reduced efficiency per mile, the number of miles is so much fewer that local food, especialy urban agriculture, comes out way ahead. If the potatoes go 127 miles at 28 ton-miles/gallon vs. 2500 miles from Arizona at 120 tm/g, the Catskills come out way ahead: 4.5 gallons vs. 20.8 for the far-shipped chemiculture ones. And his analysis doesn’t recognize that the efficiencies of big trucking disappear rapidly when that huge truck is running 4 mph stop-and-go in NYC traffic, while those of urban farming increase.

As he notes, a neighborhood urban farm might use one gallon to transport to multiple sites across the city, in a small van. And if we’re really talking hyperlocal, your neighborhood rooftop or small-lot urban farm could efficiently deliver in a five-mile radius with a bicycle (more efficient in time as well as fuel, in NYC’s traffic-choked streets)—which can offset the fuel costs of hauling the soil up to the roof by crane. Equipped with a handlebar box, a rear rack, and maybe even a small trailer, bicycles can carry quite a bit. Even back in the 1960s when I was a kid in the Bronx, a lot of local merchants offered bicycle delivery (using massive one-speed bikes with huge handlebar boxes).

Even if it’s trucked in a van, the fuel cost of a three-block delivery is pretty close to zero.

And unlike Mr. Boisvert, I don’t discount the many other benefits. Better quality food, community-building, job skills training for those interns and volunteers, and an understanding of the food cycle. My own first garden was in Brooklyn, in fact, and the thrill of growing my own food in my mini-urban farm definitely helped push me to the locavore mindset. I discovered a new crop: radish seed cones; the young ones are terrific in salads. And that was also around the time that I started advocating using flat roofs as food and energy resources.

I do have some concerns, and would like to see research, on how urban agriculture can avoid pollution-borne contamination of the food. But he doesn’t talk about that.

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I can think of no better way to celebrate July 4th this year than to acknowledge the huge honor my hero and friend Dean Cycon, CEO of Dean’s Beans in Orange, MA recently received.

Dean Cycon, CEO, Dean's Beans, jamming with musicians in Rwanda
Dean Cycon making music in Rwanda

Dean Cycon is the most ethical business owner I know, and the only person to be a guest twice on the business ethics radio show I hosted and produced for four years, from 2005 to 2009. Dean has done 100% organic and fair trade coffee and cocoa since the day he opened his company, which he located in a depressed area where jobs are scarce. Dean not just funds but also actively partners with people in the villages that supply his coffee to do “people-centered development” projects, led by the folks who live and work in those villages. He also partners with local charities in western Massachusetts to create private label coffee they can sell as fundraisers. Oh yes, and he’s also the author of one of my favorite travel books: Ippy Award gold winner Javatrekker: Dispatches from the World of Fair Trade Coffee (Chelsea Green, 2007). And he’s a fun guy who hasn’t let success interfere with his playful spirit.

And now, OMG, Dean Cycon has been awarded one of the most prestigious honors in the world: the Oslo Business for Peace Award, also known as the alternative Nobel Prize for business. The award judges are actual Nobel Laureates, including microlending pioneer Prof. Muhammad Yunus, winner of the Nobel prize in Economics in 2006, and Prof. A. Michael Spence, winner of the Nobel prize in economics in 2001. Dean is one of five honorees, and the only American. All I can say is, he richly deserves it.

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