Narrator: In the depths of the 2008 financial crisis, a struggling New York City real estate agent named Jason Haber was desperate. His business was failing, and he had a single, massive townhouse listing that he couldn't rent. Then, a call came. A "Dutch delegation" wanted the property for a few days in September, coinciding with the UN General Assembly. The commission would be a lifeline. But as the details emerged, so did the truth. The client wasn't Dutch; it was the Libyan government, and the townhouse was for its leader, Muammar Gaddafi. Haber was faced with a stark choice: accept a huge payday from a dictator he despised, or stand by his principles and risk financial ruin. He refused the deal. This single, defining moment sparked a question that sits at the heart of a global movement: must we choose between making a profit and making a difference? In his book, The Business of Good, Haber argues that this is a false choice and charts the rise of a new economic model where purpose and profit are inextricably linked.

Narrator: The book posits that the rise of social entrepreneurship is not an accident but the result of a phenomenon Haber calls "The Great Convergence." This is the collision of two powerful forces: a world facing more visible and complex problems—from terrorism and economic crises to climate change—and a world made radically smaller by technology.

Haber illustrates this shift by contrasting the world’s reaction to two Iranian student protests, a decade apart. In 1999, when students at Tehran University protested the shutdown of a reformist newspaper, the government responded with brute force. The world, largely unaware and disconnected, remained silent. The protests were crushed. Fast forward to 2009. Following a disputed presidential election, protests erupted again. This time, however, the world was watching. Armed with social media, protestors broadcast their message globally. The hashtag #iranelection became a rallying cry. People outside Iran didn't just watch; they participated. They changed their Twitter locations to Tehran to confuse government censors and retweeted messages to keep information flowing. The U.S. State Department even asked Twitter to delay scheduled maintenance to support the movement. While the protests ultimately faded, the event signaled a profound change. Victimhood was no longer a prerequisite for activism; awareness was. This new era of global consciousness, fueled by technology, created the fertile ground upon which social entrepreneurship would flourish.

Narrator: For much of the 20th century, the dominant business philosophy was articulated by economist Milton Friedman: the one and only social responsibility of business is to increase its profits. The Business of Good argues this model, "Capitalism 1.0," is obsolete. While it created immense wealth and innovation, symbolized by the abundance of the American supermarket, it also generated massive social and environmental costs, from income inequality to pollution.

The book introduces "Capitalism 2.0," a reboot driven by social entrepreneurs who believe in a "triple bottom line": people, planet, and profit. This isn't a new idea. Haber points to Benjamin Franklin as America's first social entrepreneur. Franklin founded civic organizations, invented the lightning rod, and refused to patent his inventions, believing they should be used "freely and generously" to serve others.

Today, this ethos is being formalized through structures like B Corporations, which legally require companies to consider their impact on all stakeholders, not just shareholders. These companies don't just give a fish or teach how to fish; as Ashoka founder Bill Drayton states, "They will not rest until they have revolutionized the fishing industry." They are proving that it is possible to build a successful business that is also a powerful force for good.

Narrator: The book launches a sharp critique of what it calls the "Charity Industrial Complex." For decades, many charitable organizations have relied on guilt-inducing imagery and a focus on low overhead to solicit donations. This model, Haber argues, is often ineffective. It can create dependency, undermine local economies, and fail to address the root causes of poverty. The classic example is the "folly of free shirts," where well-intentioned donations of used clothing can decimate a developing country's local textile industry.

As a powerful alternative, the book highlights the work of Scott Harrison and charity: water. Harrison, a former nightclub promoter who felt spiritually bankrupt, reinvented charity. Instead of using guilt, charity: water uses beautiful branding, compelling storytelling, and radical transparency to inspire hope and excitement. The organization operates with two separate bank accounts: one for operating costs, funded by a small group of private donors, and one for projects, where 100% of public donations go directly to building wells. Donors can even see the exact GPS coordinates of the well they helped fund. This model, which treats donors as investors and focuses on measurable impact, represents a fundamental upgrade to traditional philanthropy and demonstrates a core tenet of social entrepreneurship: empowerment is always more effective than a handout.

Narrator: A core shift in the social entrepreneurship movement is the reframing of the world's poor. The book draws on C.K. Prahalad's groundbreaking concept of the "Bottom of the Pyramid" (BoP)—the four billion people living on just a few dollars a day. For generations, corporations and charities viewed this demographic as a problem to be solved or a group to be pitied. Social entrepreneurs, however, see them as the largest untapped market on Earth.

The most powerful story of this principle in action is that of Muhammad Yunus, the father of microfinance. In 1974, during a famine in Bangladesh, Yunus, an economics professor, was frustrated by his inability to apply complex economic theories to the suffering he saw. He decided to talk to the people in the nearby village of Jobra. He met a woman who made bamboo stools but was trapped in a cycle of debt to a predatory lender. The loan that held her captive was worth just 25 cents. In a moment of clarity, Yunus realized that a small amount of capital could unlock immense human potential. He lent $27 of his own money to 42 women in the village. Every single one paid him back. When he couldn't convince traditional banks to lend to the poor, he started his own: the Grameen Bank. This act proved that the poor are not a liability but a creditworthy, entrepreneurial, and reliable market.

Narrator: The engine driving this new economy is the Millennial generation. Shaped by the Great Convergence, they are the first generation to grow up as digital natives in a globally interconnected world. According to the book, this has fundamentally altered their worldview and their expectations. Data from the Millennial Impact Project shows that they are not just willing to donate and volunteer; they demand that their work and their consumption have a positive impact.

Unlike previous generations who might have pursued a corporate career and turned to philanthropy later in life, Millennials want to integrate purpose into their lives now. They are more likely to take a pay cut to work for a company that aligns with their values and more likely to buy from a brand with a social mission. This is not just a preference; it is a mandate. They are turning down jobs at Fortune 500 companies to join startups with a social mission, forcing the entire business world to adapt. This generation understands intuitively what others are just beginning to learn: that making a difference is not just good for the soul, but good for business.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from The Business of Good is that the wall between the public and private sectors, between profit and purpose, is crumbling. Social entrepreneurship is not a fleeting trend or a niche category; it is an evolutionary leap forward for capitalism itself. It represents a "point of no return," where businesses are increasingly expected to create value for society, not just for shareholders.

The book leaves us with the profound image of the "Pale Blue Dot," the photograph of Earth taken from Voyager 1 from billions of miles away. From that distance, our conflicts, our ambitions, and our divisions vanish into a single, tiny speck. It’s a humbling reminder of our shared home and our collective responsibility to protect it. The challenge, then, is not whether we can build a better world, but whether we will choose to use our most powerful tools—our ingenuity, our capital, and our businesses—to do so.