Patagonia’s “The Responsible Company” After 10 Years: A Review in Retrospect
Ten years ago, with nearly thirty years of business under their belt, Patagonia published a business book unlike most. Jointly authored by Patagonia founder, Yvon Chouinard, and Vincent Stanley, the closest thing Patagonia has to a resident philosopher, The Responsible Company set out to equip folks at every level of business with a set of tools designed to redefine how business can operate on a planet facing ecological peril. Looking back, now a decade later, I can’t help but write what feels like less of a review than a call for a sequel.
Without wasting any time, the authors outline exactly who the book is for on page two. The strategies and tools outlined in the ensuing chapters are comprehensive while compassionate. Evidenced by the consideration given to choosing the word responsible—versus say buzzier terms like sustainable or ecological—the authors make a sincere effort to engender a humble, more modest approach to what can often feel daunting and paralyzing.
The reader is introduced to novel strategies like the Triple Bottom Line which prioritizes people, planet, and profit, registering as a Benefit Corporation (B-Corp) to integrate a social or environmental mission in a company charter, or maximizing participatory corporate control (PCC), a strategy which recognized frontline workers as an invaluable resource in corporate structure (well in advance I might add of the pandering seen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic). The book also advocates for paying workers a living wage and creating shared value (CSV), an acknowledgement of the interdependence of corporate success and the common good.
Sharing some of Patagonia’s own resistance to becoming the more responsible company we know today, as in the case of transitioning to organic cotton, the authors don’t deny their own motivations were at times more naive than righteous. Having no idea “how much work would be involved; we only knew it was possible, and that we had no compelling reason to continue to use harmful chemically dependent cotton.” While decisions like these proved admirable in hindsight, I couldn’t help but ask in the margins, where did this ethic originate? No industry leader will glean the book’s ethical promise by osmosis alone. Surely maximizing profit is enough for some to never bother asking these questions in the first place.
With their roots in the then-fledgling climbing industry of the sixties and seventies, perhaps responsibility was in Patagonia’s DNA from the start. Hell, when selling pitons and carabiners, the company was literally responsible for the life or death of their customer. High stakes often lead to high standards. While this may have worked in Patagonia’s favor, we have to ask, how can we cultivate this same engagement across industries? The book offers guidance here as well, championing what science journalist Daniel Goleman calls ecological intelligence: “Know your impacts, favor improvement, share what you learn.”
If The Responsible Company was intended to empower those in business to develop ecological intelligence, then perhaps a sequel could empower the consumer to pull economic levers of change with similar intentions. As the authors were sure to point out, “most fundamental changes start at the margins and move toward the center.”
Of the book’s seven chapters, chapter four seems particularly relevant to facilitating fundamental change. Titled “Meaningful Work,” the authors highlight the growing priority workers continue to place on finding a sense of worth and self-fulfillment. Why might this prove important? Because in the absence of meaningful work, an apathetic consumer is not far off.
As we grapple with the fallout of a global pandemic, the very concept of work continues to be challenged. Like the workers of early twentieth century who “left the farm for the mill,” much of today’s workforce appears apathetic, also having “lost their autonomy, sense of purpose, and their connection to nature.” Fortunately, finding meaning in how one spends their time, whether in service to others or the planet, also seems to have been renewed. And in that search for meaning, I believe there lies a glimmer of hope. While comforting, hope alone can be intoxicating, often insulating us from what demands immediate action. But, I believe there is a more resilient form of hope. That is, hope born out of having found meaning. A hope free of any lingering sense of entitlement.
When The Responsible Company was first published in 2012, the authors cited a PEW research poll that showed a precipitous ten year decline in public consideration of the environment as a top priority. What had been 63% in 2001 plummeted to just 40% in 2011. When polled again in 2020, that same poll reflected a sea change amongst Americans, eclipsing the previous high water mark at 64%. And while the years since have been anything but steady, demand for meaningful change hasn’t waned.
Perhaps the most revolutionary point Chouinard and Stanley were keen to champion is that we are ultimately transitioning to a post-consumerist society. Crucially, that isn’t to say our collective needs for clothing and shelter, or fun and games are going anywhere, or the businesses that provide each. But in this post-consumerist world, while “goods are likely to become more expensive, to reflect their true social and environmental cost…we’ll have more time with our friends and family, and more time for meaningful work.”
So, while I’m unaware of any plans for a sequel, I’d like to offer a working title, Customer as Catalyst: How to Build a Post-Consumerist Society. And in the spirit of its predecessor, here’s a hypothetical quote from page two:
“This book is for anyone who is sold things. It is for shoppers, voters, and grocery aisle wanderers, young or old. It is for people who want to engage their best, deepest self in the things they buy and, in turn, are responsible for.”
Yeah, I want to read that book.
