From Obligation to Opportunity

Having grown up in western New York in the 1950s and ’60s, I have memories of family vacations spent at destinations like Niagara Falls. Although the Falls themselves were indeed magnificent, equally memorable for a 10-year-old was the soot from nearby factories that accumulated on the porch furniture, requiring that we cleaned the furniture daily, lest we ruin our clothes. The accompanying stench was also something to experience. I still remember asking why, in a place of such natural beauty and splendor, did it have to be so polluted? The answer, accepted wisdom in those days, was that this was “the smell of money.” If we were going to have economic prosperity, then we would have to put up with some minor inconveniences, such as soot, stench, rivers that catch fire, and mountains of waste. It was the cost of progress. I remember being singularly unsatisfied by this response.

Fast-forward to 1974. As a freshly minted college graduate headed to Yale for graduate work in the School of Forestry and Environmental Studies, I was convinced that corporations were the “enemy” and that the only way to deal effectively with environmental problems was to “make them pay” through regulation—to internalize their externalities, in the jargon of economics. This was probably a correct perception at that point in history: Large corporations, by and large, had been unresponsive to environmental issues, and it appeared that the only way to deal with the problem was to force them to clean up the messes they were making. The Environmental Protection Agency and scores of other regulatory agencies were created precisely for this purpose. A mountain of command-and-control regulation was passed during the decade of the 1970s, aimed at forcing companies to mitigate their negative impacts.

[wcm_restrict]Regulators and citizen activists, buoyed by their newfound power, increased the pressure on companies through fines, penalties, campaigns, and consent decrees. The courts became clogged with lawsuits aimed at halting projects that were deemed unacceptable due to their environmental or social impacts. Economists of the “environmental” variety wrote books about externalities and the public policies that would be required for them to be “internalized” most efficiently by companies.¹ In the process, companies became convinced that social and environmental issues were necessarily costly problems, usually involving lawyers and litigation. For better or worse, the message was that environmental and social issues were “responsibilities” that companies were required to deal with—and it was going to be expensive.

The Great Trade-Off Illusion

There can be no question that command-and-control regulation was of enormous importance; it required, perhaps for the first time, that business address directly its negative societal impacts. Since the time of the industrial revolution, enterprises had relied upon the extraction of cheap raw materials, exploitation of factory labor, and production of mass quantities of waste and pollution (think of those “dark, satanic mills”). Indeed, pollution was assumed to be part of the industrialization process. When economists conceived the concept of externalities, in other words, it seemed virtually impossible that firms could behave in any other manner. For the better part of 200 years, industrial firms engaged in what might be described as “take, make, waste” as an organizing paradigm.² Command-and-control regulation seemed a necessary and appropriate counter to the prevailing industrial mindset.

Paradoxically, this mindset also resulted in what I call the “Great Trade-Off Illusion”—the belief that firms must sacrifice financial performance to meet societal obligations.³ A massive wall of environmental and social regulation has been spawned over the past 30 years, most of which has been written in a way that makes the Great Trade-Off Illusion a self-fulfilling prophecy. Just track the thickness (and lack of flexibility) of the Code of Federal Regulations in the United States for confirmation.⁴ Too often, command-and-control regulations prescribed specific treatment technologies without regard to their efficiency or cost-effectiveness.

A generation of businesspeople was shaped by this framing of the situation. Not surprisingly, the managers and executives who rose to prominence during the postwar years were predisposed to think of environmental and social issues as negatives for business. A socially minded executive or company might “give back” to the community through philanthropy or volunteering, but such concerns would certainly never be part of the company’s core activities! The social responsibility of business was to maximize profits, as Milton Friedman advocated, and it seemed clear that social or environmental concerns could only serve to reduce them.⁵

Even today, this mindset lingers. Try the following thought experiment: Imagine that you are a general manager in a business or company of your choosing. Your assistant calls saying that the environment, health, and safety (EHS) manager and the public affairs director are in your outer office, and they say the matter is urgent. What is your first reaction? If you are honest with yourself, you will have to admit that the first thoughts that come to mind are something like: problem, crisis, spill, incident, accident, boycott, protest, lawsuit, fine, or jail time. Your first instinct was probably to head for the back door of your office to escape.

But now try a second thought experiment: Your assistant calls saying that the heads of marketing and new product development are in your outer office, and they are anxious to meet with you. Now, what is your first reaction? What thoughts or issues come to mind? In all likelihood, your mind probably flashes to images like: breakthrough, opportunity, blockbuster, innovation, or growth. Your first instinct is to run to the front door of the office to let them in.⁶

The Great Trade-Off Illusion trained a generation of corporate, business, and facility-level managers to assume that societal concerns could only be drags on their business. As a consequence, their attitude tended to be reactive—they would do only the bare minimum necessary to avoid legal sanction. Unfortunately, when lawmakers and activists unfamiliar with operations or market dynamics write the rules for compliance, it is a virtual certainty that the rules will not integrate well with company strategy or operations. Taking a reactive posture thus doomed companies to a decade or more of onerous regulations that treated the symptoms rather than the underlying problems. These regulations targeted specific wastes, emissions, pollutants, and exposure levels through command-and-control-style rules that forced companies to deal with problems “at the end of the pipe” rather than addressing them as part of their core strategy or operations. Unfortunately, pollution-control devices can never improve efficiency or produce revenue; they can only add cost.

The Greening Revolution

The decade of the 1980s brought with it a growing sense of unease with command-and-control regulation. Despite enormous expenditures, it was not at all clear that the end-of-the-pipe approach to pollution control and regulation was working.⁷ Alternatives such as market-based incentives and tradable emission permits demonstrated that pollution levels could be reduced in a dramatically more efficient and cost-effective manner. In Europe, a more collaborative and goal-oriented approach to regulation was the norm; the focus was on actual environmental and social improvement rather than the specification of particular treatment technologies or pollution control devices.

I, too, was undergoing a transformation of sorts. In 1986, I joined the faculty at the University of Michigan Business School, having completed my doctoral work in strategy and planning in 1983. My transition from a regulatory to a business strategy orientation reflected my own growing disenchantment with the command-and-control approach to dealing with environmental and societal problems. Rather than simply trying to halt polluting projects or mitigate damage, I became increasingly interested in understanding why such seemingly bad projects were being proposed in the first place.

This change proved fortuitous: By the late 1980s, there was a growing receptivity to environmental and social issues within companies—and business schools. As luck would have it, this openness developed through innovation in another arena: quality management. As you might recall, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Japanese companies were literally overrunning their American and European competitors with higher-quality and lower-cost goods. From steel makers to automobile firms, to consumer electronics manufacturers, companies were scrambling to match the Japanese quality advantage. Because of widespread plant closures and downsizing, there was palpable concern that the West would lose to “Japan, Inc.”⁸

After three glorious postwar decades of high-volume, standardized mass production with quality inspected in (after the fact) rather than built in (as part of the design and production process), Western companies were being out-competed by a new and better way. Instead of countering with their own unique strategies, American and European companies became obsessed with learning and copying the ways of Japanese quality management.⁹ Among other things, they built the capacity for “continuous improvement” (kaizen) into the management system by empowering workers to improve their work processes rather than blindly following prescribed procedures. Managers’ mindsets changed from a fixation on centralized control and a “results” orientation (detecting defects and fixing them) to a preoccupation on decentralization and a “process” orientation (improving the management system so that employees could prevent quality problems from occurring in the first place).¹⁰

Shattering the Trade-Off Myth

The confluence of the quality and environmental movements was a marriage made in heaven: By the late 1980s, it had become clear that preventing pollution and other negative impacts was usually a much cheaper and more effective approach than trying to clean up the mess after it had already been made. The emergence of market-based incentives such as tradable emission permits made prevention even more appealing. Furthermore, the discipline of quality management could be easily expanded to incorporate social and environmental issues. In the early 1990s, this confluence produced a flurry of so-called environmental management system (EMS) approaches and “total quality environmental management” protocols, culminating in the advent of the International Standards Organization (ISO) 14001, the environmental equivalent of ISO 9000 for quality.

Community advisory panels and stakeholder dialogue intended to involve affected parties in company affairs instead of doing battle in court proved to be a much more effective way to maintain legitimacy and the “right to operate.” Indeed, in designing its self-regulation program called Responsible Care, the chemical industry enshrined the principles of pollution prevention and community engagement as part of its product stewardship process. In short, the quality revolution taught us that muda (waste) was the enemy of good management. Pollution and litigation were the ultimate forms of muda.

As social and environmental issues became more deeply embedded in the ongoing operations of enterprises, managers began to see that corporate and societal performance need not be separated. Whereas companies previously sought to first make money through their business operations and then give back to society through philanthropy, now these two agendas could be merged. What had been a virtual firewall separating business from philanthropy was now transforming into a host of new and creative approaches to combining the two through corporate partnerships with nongovernmental organizations, strategic philanthropy, and other forms of social innovation.¹¹

Furthermore, in certain situations, preventing pollution through process or product redesign could actually save money, reduce risk, and even improve products for the firm. An extensive body of research began to document the situations and contexts in which pollution prevention and product stewardship resulted in superior financial performance.¹² Not surprisingly, parlaying environmental and social performance into improved business performance required a set of supporting or complementary capabilities, such as employee empowerment, quality management, cross-functional cooperation, and stakeholder engagement. This meant that the greening revolution had not only succeeded in elevating the significance of social and environmental issues, but it also had converted them from expensive problems into strategic opportunities for certain firms with the necessary skills, capabilities, and leadership vision.¹³

Breaking Free of Command-and-Control

Accompanying the greening revolution in the corporate sector was the emergence of a new philosophy in regulation and public policy that recognized the limitations (and expense) of conventional regulation and the end-of-the-pipe mentality. In response, a slew of new voluntary initiatives were introduced that recognized the power of information disclosure and transparency.¹⁴ The pioneering initiative was the Toxic Release Inventory (TRI) in the U.S. Passed in 1988 as a rider on the Superfund Reauthorization (the law establishing strict liability for toxic waste sites), the TRI received relatively little attention in its early days. This seemingly innocuous provision required only that manufacturers disclose their use, storage, transport, and disposal of more than 300 toxic chemicals (all of which were perfectly legal at the time). Much to everyone’s surprise, this data, maintained by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, became an important new source of information for activist groups, the media, and third-party analysts to track corporate environmental performance. Top 10 lists of corporate polluters became de rigeur.

The TRI also provided, for the first time, a metric for corporate and facility managers to track their own firms’ performance and benchmark it against competitors. What gets measured gets done. Ten years later, toxic emissions in the United States had been reduced by more than 60 percent, even though the U.S. economy boomed during the 1990s. Indeed, many companies actually saved tens of millions of dollars in the process of reducing or eliminating their toxic emissions.¹⁵ We could argue that the TRI was one of the most important and effective pieces of social legislation ever passed. And it required nary a lawsuit, court battle, or inspector to make it happen. Since then, many developing countries have adopted a similar philosophy of transparency and information disclosure as the basis for their environmental policies, given that these can be implemented at a fraction of the cost of command-and-control regulations.

Equally important was the advent of “extended producer responsibility” laws, primarily in Europe.¹⁶ Quite simply, these laws stipulate that manufacturers are responsible for the products they create all the way to the end of their useful lives. Beginning with regulations on packaging waste in Germany in the late 1980s, these laws now extend to several industrial sectors, including automobiles, consumer electronics, and computers. Requiring that producers take back their products after they have reached the end of their lives has obvious effects on the way companies go about designing products in the first place. This simple requirement has fomented a revolution in product stewardship and “green design” protocols, using life-cycle management as its core principle. Rather than focusing only on the phase of the product’s life cycle that the company controls (manufacture or assembly), product stewardship means designing products to take account of their entire life cycle, from the sourcing of raw materials and energy from the Earth to the reuse, remanufacture, or return of the materials to the Earth. Rather than thinking linearly, in terms of “cradle to grave,” increasingly, designers think cyclically, in terms of “cradle to cradle.”¹⁷

In the process, companies have discovered that life-cycle design principles can yield competitively superior products. During the early 1990s, for example, Xerox pioneered take-back, remanufacturing and design-for-environment strategies in the photocopier business and reaped significant competitive benefits. Given the company’s extensive field presence for servicing commercial copiers, it was relatively easy to take back used machines, refurbish parts and components, and produce a line of remanufactured machines. However, it was not until the mid-1990s that Xerox actually began to design copiers with an eye toward taking them back. This program, dubbed Asset Recycle Management, was founded on the notion that by reusing assets as many times as possible (recall that most Xerox commercial copiers were leased, not owned by customers), the company would not only reduce its environmental footprint, but also lower its costs and increase its return on assets. It set the goal of producing “waste-free products from waste-free factories.”¹⁸ By the late 1990s, Xerox was saving close to $500 million per year through this program, a figure approaching 2.5 percent of company sales. In fact, it can be argued that, given Xerox’s failure to shift its strategy toward printers (considering documents were increasingly being stored electronically and printed rather than duplicated), the Asset Recycle Management Program kept the company afloat for much of the 1990s.

As the green revolution progressed, leading companies began to shift their energy and attention more toward proactive strategies that reduced waste, emissions, and impacts while simultaneously reducing costs and risks. Paying real money for raw materials and inputs only to dump substantial amounts of these into the environment in the form of waste made little economic sense. In fact, Dow Chemical estimated in the early 1990s that reactive efforts such as regulatory compliance, cleanup, and remediation result in returns in the range of -60 percent while proactive initiatives typically produce positive returns in excess of 20 percent.¹⁹ The problem was that most corporate activity (perhaps as much as 90 percent) was still of the reactive variety. The challenge was to transform the portfolio so that more was of the proactive sort. Ultimately, the goal is to get out of the regulatory compliance business entirely.

It was becoming clear that under the right circumstances, firms could actually improve their own competitive position by creating societal value. They could, for example, lower costs by internalizing externalities through pollution prevention. Furthermore, through product stewardship, it was sometimes possible to supply public goods and achieve superior performance. Witness Volvo’s new radiator that actually cleans the air as it cools the engine or BP’s climate-change policy that reduces its greenhouse gas emissions while reducing its costs. We should emphasize, however, the caveat “under the right circumstances:” Only through creativity, imagination, and the persistent development of particular skills and capabilities can firms simultaneously optimize financial, social, and environmental performance.

By the early 1990s, the greening revolution had led to the creation of a new dual-degree program at the University of Michigan involving both the Business School and the School of Natural Resources and Environment: the Corporate Environmental Management Program (CEMP), now the Erb Institute’s dual masters program. Integrating pollution prevention and product stewardship into the management curriculum was the backbone for this program. As the founding director of CEMP, I had completed a virtual turnabout: It was now clear to me that the corporate sector itself was the key leverage point for achieving substantial and lasting change in societal performance and that financial performance need not suffer in the process. I could finally put aside the demons from the past associated with “the smell of money.” I came to realize instead that pollution was the smell of waste and poor management.

-This is part 1 of a 3 part series excerpted from Stuart L. Hart’s, Capitalism at the Crossroads (3rd Edition), published by Wharton School Publishing, an Imprint of Pearson.

Sources

1. For example, Allen Kneese and Charles Schultze, Pollution, Prices, and Public Policy (Washington, D.C.: Brookings, 1975); and Robert Dorfman and Nancy Dorfman, Economics of the Environment (New York: W.W. Norton, 1972).
2. Ray Anderson, Mid-Course Correction (White River Junction, VT: Chelsea Green, 1998).
3. It is not my intention here to suggest that trade-offs do not exist between corporate economic and societal performance. Clearly, in some situations, command-and-control regulation is the only viable solution. In others, however, it is possible to internalize externalities or even supply public goods in a way that facilitates economic performance. The problem has been blind adherence to the belief that such “win-win” situations are generally not possible.
4. Again, my intention here is not to suggest that command-and-control regulation does not serve an important purpose. For laggards and criminals, there is no option. However, for those firms seeking to move beyond compliance, such regulation can sometimes limit degrees of freedom and slow the rate of innovation.
5. Milton Friedman, “The Social Responsibility of Business Is to Increase Its Profits,” The New York Times Magazine, 13 September (1970): 32–33, 122–126.
6. My thanks to Paul Tebo at DuPont for this wonderful illustration.
7. Indeed, the Reagan administration in the United States was bent on reforming—or, better yet eliminating—these regulations.
8. Clyde Prestowitz, Trading Places (New York: Basic Books, 1988); Barry Bluestone and Bennett Harrison, The Deindustrialization of America (New York: Basic Books, 1982); and Ira Magaziner and Robert Reich, Minding America’s Business (New York: Vintage Books, 1982).
9. Ironically, quality management was an American invention in the first place, but it was rejected in the 1950s by U.S. companies who were making too much money through high-volume, standardized mass production. Proponents such as Deming and Crosby found willing adopters, however, in the struggling companies of post-war Japan.
10. See, for example, Masaki Imai, Kaizen: The Key to Japan’s Competitive Success (New York: Random House, 1986).
11. Excellent examples include Bill Shore, The Cathedral Within (New York: Random House, 1999); and Mark Albion, Making a Life, Making a Living (New York: Warner Books, 2000).
12. Michael Porter and Claas van der Linde, “Green and Competitive: Ending the Stalemate.” Harvard Business Review (September/October 1995): 120–134; Stuart Hart and Gautam Ahuja, “Does It Pay to Be Green? An Empirical Examination of the Relationship Between Emission Reduction and Firm Performance,” Business Strategy and the Environment, 5 (1996): 30–37; Michael Russo and Peter Fouts, “A Resource-Based Perspective on Corporate Environmental Performance and Profitability,” Academy of Management Journal, 40(3) (1997): 534–559; Petra Christmann, “Effects of ’Best Practices’ of Environmental Management on Cost Advantage: The Role of Complementary Assets,” Academy of Management Journal, 43(4) (1998): 663–680; and Sanjay Sharma and Harrie Vredenburg, “Proactive Corporate Environmental Strategy and the Development of Competitively Valuable Organizational Capabilities.” Strategic Management Journal, 19 (1998): 729–753.
13. For an excellent and in-depth treatment of greening as business opportunity and strategy, see Forest Reinhardt, Down to Earth (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Business School Press, 2000).
14. A. Marcus, D. Geffen, and K. Sexton, Reinventing Environmental Regulation: Lessons from Project XL (Washington, D.C.: Resources for the Future/Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002).
15. Andy King and Michael Lenox, “Exploring the Locus of Profitable Pollution Reduction,” Management Science, 47(2) (2002): 289–299.
16. See Nigel Roome and Michael Hinnells, “Environmental Factors in the Management of New Product Development,” Business Strategy and the Environment, 2(1) (1993): 12–27; and Ulrich Steger, “Managerial Issues in Closing the Loop,” Business Strategy and the Environment, 5(4) (1996): 252–268.
17. William McDonough and Michael Braungart, Cradle to Cradle (New York: North Point Press, 2002).
18. Fiona Murray and Richard Vietor, Xerox: Design for Environment, (Boston: Harvard Business School Publishing, 1993).
19. Personal communication with Dave Buzzelli, Dow Chemical Company, 1996.

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About the Author

Stuart L. Hart, author of Capitalism at the Crossroads, is the Samuel C. Johnson Chair of Sustainable Global Enterprise and Professor of Management at Cornell University’s Johnson School of Management. Professor Hart is one of the world’s top authorities on the implications of sustainable development and environmentalism for business strategy. He has published over 50 papers and authored or edited five books. His article “Beyond Greening: Strategies for a Sustainable World” won the McKinsey Award for Best Article in the Harvard Business Review for 1997 and helped launch the movement for corporate sustainability. To read Stuart’s complete biography, click here.