Die Zukunft der Fair Trader – Drei Akteure der freien Marktwirtschaft übernehmen ethische Verantwortung für ihr Tun und nachfolgende Generationen: sie wirtschaften nachhaltig.
Die Zukunft der Fair Trader (2018)
Regisseur: Nino Jacusso
Drehbuch: Nino Jacusso
Schauspieler: Patrick HohmannSina TrinkwalderClaudia Zimmermann
Genre: Dokumentation
Land: Schweiz
Sprache: Deutsch
Erscheinungsdatum: 26. Oktober 2018
Handlung:
Drei Akteure der freien Marktwirtschaft übernehmen ethische Verantwortung für ihr Tun und nachfolgende Generationen: sie wirtschaften nachhaltig. Der Film zeichnet die Karrieren von erfolgreichen Unternehmerinnen und Unternehmern in unterschiedlichen Stadien, die lokal, national und international agieren und Markt & Moral vereinbaren.
FAIRTRADERS geht der Frage nach, wie ein Wirtschaftsmodell nach dem Neoliberalismus aussehen kann und zeigt hierzu die Haltung dreier Vorreiter, die tagaus tagein zwischen anständigen Arbeitsbedingungen, biologischer Produktion und dem Kostendruck der freien Marktwirtschaft balancieren. Der Film eröffnet so aus einer oft hoffnungslos erscheinenden globalen Situation einen motivierenden möglichen Ausweg und rückt Ethik und Nachhaltigkeit als Faktoren für den Erfolg ins Zentrum.
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When I was twenty, I thought this can’t be what life is about: to work, go home, maybe tend a little garden with three rows of carrots. I felt I wanted something else. But I didn’t know what. To the people around you, you have the perfect job. You’re driving a fancy car,
You’re jetting around, you’re really important. You dine at gourmet restaurants every night. Your hips keep growing wider, until you need an even bigger car. You can afford it, people pander to you. Everything is easy. But it is entirely meaningless. And it doesn’t make you happy. It was okay. Done and dusted, game over.
Stop. I need to do something else. I came from a different angle. I was trading cotton thread and would have loved to drive a Porsche. Today, when I look at the carbon footprint, all the products we make are carbon neutral. We are at the point where our textiles are good enough to eat.
Beautifully soft. This will make wonderful clothes. As a kid I didn’t give it much thought. I wrote into the first friendship book I saw that I wanted to become a farmer. Back then, I had no clue what that meant. I just wanted to work with animals and nature.
When I grew up that was no longer an issue. I chose a different path. I became a kindergarten teacher. That was okay. But somehow, during the 15 years of working as a teacher, I felt something inside me wasn’t fulfilled. I loved working with children, but I often asked myself
About the meaning of life. At 20 I even went to see a psychiatrist. I had told my GP I was weary and didn’t see any meaning in life. He said: That’s dangerous. Take care. I saw the life my parents had. They worked from dawn till dusk.
It meant we had money to live on, but a whole lot of other things were missing. I don’t want that; I want to live my life. I don’t want to be able to afford everything. I want to live a happy life. Purple St. Gall potatoes. Those are different. Shall we take those first?
Yes. You can hardly see them. Then I met Matthias. He was also asking himself: “What’s next?” We talked, we went on holiday together. Then he told me about his parents’ farm. When I heard that, I asked: How about farming? He looked at me, wide-eyed, asking – Would you like that? I said yes.
We decided to try living here as a family, without one of us working an extra job. Beautiful! They will stay that way. They don’t lose their colour when cooked. Like a star. You can make purple crisps or chips. Colourful potato salad. Corporate Design. All that money… Right. This one was great.
Do you remember this one? Trip-Trap printing and hot foil stamping. And the watches, the Audemars. That was awesome. I should have used white underprint. The only mistake that makes me sick now. I’ll get over it. And a mistake in the wording. This is the rest of our great past.
There even was scented paper. It wasn’t a mutual decision, I decided for myself that I wasn’t keen on advertising anymore. What happened to me was that a happy accident occurred. During a period of dissatisfaction I had this great experience of a very important encounter. That was in November 2009,
In Wuppertal, where I went to see a client. We had done an ad campaign for newspapers and magazines. I was carrying a few specimen copies; the train ride stretches like gum. There were women’s magazines, Psychology Today and heaven knows what else. I had already chucked some at the station,
Because I don’t tend to read that stuff. A totally run-down guy pulls the high-gloss magazines from the bin. He looks at me in a friendly way. He has some teeth missing. The man was in a desolate state of hygiene. He told me: We collect them for Christmas. My wife and I are homeless.
The magazines are colourful and shiny. We make our Christmas decorations from them. I was shaken and told myself: We have to do something. It cannot be that in this day and age you need a double PhD to get a job. For ordinary people who only went to a regular school,
Who spent 20 years raising children, who couldn’t get a higher education: There must be a way, for crying out loud, for them to be a part of society again. So I went home, got off at Augsburg, Stefan was waiting for me, dinner ready. The first thing I said when I got home was:
Stefan, I’m leaving the agency. I quit. Right, and what are you going to do? Something that is relevant to society. The big question was, of course: What is relevant to society? It was utopian. I had never sat at a sewing machine and I wanted to found a textile factory. With people
Nobody else would employ. Fantastic! I needed money so I went to a bank. Hello, banker! In a dead industry I know absolutely nothing about, employing people nobody wants, I am planning to found a factory. Can I have your dough? They were super keen, of course. The Swabian government laughed at me:
All very nice, but that’s your private matter. The Bavarian parliament sent me to Berlin to talk to the Federal Government. You don’t think you can do this, do you? I realised: It’s no good. I have to open my own purse. I’m an entrepreneur, not a charity lady. I want to achieve something.
So I took everything I had and what Stefan had, cleaned out our accounts. It was almost two million euros, which I put up for the common good. We are building a medium-sized factory. I mortgaged my flat. Stefan said: Are you crazy? Man! Me: Stefan, dead is dead.
The fact that we opted for textiles has to do with the history of Augsburg. It was the textile capital of the Middle Ages. It was also the capital of trade. So let’s make textiles again. That’s how Manomama came to be. I grew up in Egypt. In Egypt, everything was sea
And sand and light and sunny. Then I came to Zurich. A few days later I was on a train going to Celerina, in the Alps. Things got narrower, through Tiefencastel. People talk about “lovely Tiefencastel”. To me, things just kept getting narrower. I went to boarding school in Celerina,
Was eleven years old and had no German. There I was, a cup of cocoa in front of me with milk skin swimming on top, and bread with strawberry jam. That was just the way it was. I settled in, realising that I need to meet people halfway.
I have to open up to them and talk. I have to ask questions. Even more if I don’t understand. It was a new world. GMO means modifying the genetic substance of plants. A protein is implanted, e.g. Bacillus thuringiensis. It makes sure that the pests die from eating the plant.
You end up not only destroying pests but also part of the micro-organisms, of which we don’t know 80 per cent. In India, the modernisation of agriculture has been accelerated to an absurd degree. Today, 95 per cent of the cotton seeds India produces are genetically modified. I’ll show you a counter-example to GMO.
We’re just as good at it as the GMO people. I can’t weigh them out, but this is the thickest of the GMO bolls. This is the thickest of the organic bolls. That means, we’re getting there, but we’re not quite there yet. In December 1990, we got the idea to produce organic cotton.
At first, the idea was not met with enthusiasm. People said: That’s just a gimmick. It’s not true. It’s nothing, it’s not even an idea. Initially, it was just an experiment. For a long time, it was an experiment. In 1995, the Coop Group came on board. In 2003/2004, we at Remei decided:
We’re going fully organic. We have to bank on organic, so we can be consistently organic. I was looking for organic cotton. In the Swiss Textile Review, there was a report about a Swiss company that was apparently selling organic cotton. That was Remei. This is how I came across Remei and met Patrick.
Around the same time I started producing organic cotton Coop launched its brand Naturaplan. The fashion brand Naturaline developed from the food brand Naturaplan. I got a lot of backing in the company, because many people supported this issue and believed it had a future. I sunk my teeth into it.
At one point I did tell him: I can’t go on. I’m exhausted. Too many problems. I can’t deal with it. I can’t handle the production anymore. I can’t deal with the farmers You take over. There were a few situations where everything was touch and go.
I could only contribute in a small way by saying: Even if I risk getting no cotton at all one season and basically having empty shelves, I can promise you that we will stick with it. We never had a binding contract. All I heard was: Keep going. There are different organic labels.
Bio Suisse has the strictest regulations. EU organic has lower standards. They don’t need the whole farm to be organic. In Switzerland, the whole farm has to be. I always say: Better EU organic than not organic. You have to give those countries a chance to market their products. You don’t want organic to decrease.
To me, organic is not a political issue, it just means taking good care of nature. We produce in keeping with nature. I love selling our own produce. It’s nice to be able to say this has just come in fresh from the fields. That is the way I select my products:
Firstly, produce from farmers in our region. Whatever cannot be sourced in the region we try to get elsewhere in Switzerland. Everything else is imported from abroad. It’s very time-consuming. I have 17 suppliers, 12 of them are farmers. I often have to follow up with the farmers: Remember, I’ll need it by then.
At first, it was hard-going. They’d say: I am in the fields, I’ll bring it tomorrow. So, I had to tell them: We’re open Wednesdays. That’s when I need it. Or else people won’t have butter or cheese. The day after tomorrow won’t cut it. We are proud of our home-made shop.
It’s one of a kind. It’s ours. We designed all the furniture together. For nights on end, on Sundays, from dawn till dusk. We wrote, drafted, painted, sanded, built. That’s how everything came together. It looks like an old-fashioned village shop. Our philosophy is to have a self-contained cycle. You need a bit of everything.
Animals to make natural manure for the fields, so the crops get enough nutrients. That’s why we have free-range pigs. To me it was clear we would do free-range. That is the only way for me. They have to be able to burrow and wallow. A pig must have things to do.
It isn’t made for concrete floors. At some point we put a trailer in the enclosure and for a week we feed them in it. They eat in there mornings and evenings. And one day the hatch is shut and we drive off. They eat all the way to the butcher.
Our pigs don’t produce stress hormones that leave a taste in the meat. I started out with three people initially. We made some T-shirts. And it was a disaster. I had totally underestimated that industrial textile production is not simply cutting out fabric with nail scissors and tailoring and sewing. After nine months,
Although Manomama already had made waves, I said: No, I have to learn this from scratch. From A to Z: patterns, garment production … It’s an immensely broad range. Half a year later, I said: We’re ready to go. Along came our first business partner. I thought, great: Drogeriemarkt, the chemist.
We could do baby clothing. A few days later, they called us: We’d like you to make shopping bags. Bags, right. I was totally disappointed. I thought: shopping bags. Cheap, trashy, ugly printed shopping bags. Then I thought: If I can swing this and create value in Germany with bags,
Later I’ll be able to succeed with suits. Okay, let’s do this. I called Drogeriemarkt: We can do this, no problem, but I don’t want to do a logo bag. That’s not sustainable, it’s tatty. They said: Great, let’s do it. The bags were a huge success. They were talked about
All over Germany and Austria From 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 100 employees we went to 150 employees. It was a fairy tale. The deadline was in May and we knew, if we didn’t make that deadline and finish thousands of dm-bags this company would cease to exist. It was a beautiful cooperation, though,
Because Sina worked hard, too. Everyone pitched in. From the secretary to the trainee. Everyone lent a hand. Weekends, holidays. It was really … Sina was a co-worker, not the boss. She did call the shots, but … She contributed a lot. Wherever there was an emergency. We did all-nighters. Coffee. Cigarettes.
There’s a lot of support if you see the project will continue, there is a future. It’s growing, with the garments now, With the jeans, and everything. We would never have believed it. That we would grow that much, make progress. That we wouldn’t just produce dm-bags. That we would produce everything.
Every suggestion our clients make is tried out. What I admire about Sina: the sustainability. That’s why I think the project with the bags and the organic cotton jeans … We are all permanently employed. Sina says, until we retire, or longer. That’s good to know somehow.
I worked for a rental company. You never knew: Will I get axed tomorrow? Whereas here … You can become homeless easily. If I fall ill for a long time my health insurance will kick me out. I must go to the job centre. I have no job.
I’ll go on the dole. Do I want that? How long does that take, 2, 3 years? Less. We have a deal with the farmers that we pay them the average market price. If a village gets an average price below the average market price we pay the difference to raise it.
And that is the lowest price. Beyond that they get a bonus. It is based not on one year but on the last five years, to balance out the market differences. Despite highs and lows, they will get that price. They know that. They can doublecheck, if they want. It’s not random anymore.
We take on the responsibility of selling their product at a good price. How are you? Have you forgotten me? I have not forgotten you. A few years ago, I had a vision. I said: 100, 10, 2. 100, I said, because the organic movement requires 100,000 farmers. 10, meaning: in ten years.
And 2: double the income. In India, I didn’t succeed. But I did here, in Tanzania. The farmers have doubled their income. In the late 1980s I sold a lot of thread via Austria to the GDR. I traveled around the world, to Brazil, to Sudan, to Tanzania, to India. I suddenly realized
That the EU was bankrolling textile factories. They provide infrastructure, loans. They are available for a period of time. The factories flourish. Then the loan expires. That’s when the problems begin and the traders walk away. Those factories had no chance of survival, unless other workable systems were implemented.
The right choice for those systems, in my eyes, were partnerships: Each party knows the other’s objectives and can do honest business. The sales partner has to offer the producing partner the best price possible. He must not maximise his profit. Everything went smoothly, but then there was a power cut in Tanzania
And the spinning mill stood still. The loans dried up. There were new banks in place that didn’t want to get into this business. Everything collapsed. I said: We have the responsibility, so we must take money to the farmers. We arrived with a small suitcase and paid out the farmers.
That created a basis of trust that is indescribable. Where is Hannelore? At home, I guess. She leaves, but the place doesn’t stand still. She switched this off, and this. Seriously? We all know where the key is. What kind of rubbish is that? So no-one irons when she’s not here. You’re not serious.
Don’t ask me, ask Hannelore. She locks up the plug? Sorry, I have to laugh. She locks up the plug! That’s Hannelore for you. She’s worried about her job, right? I don’t believe it. She unplugs it and locks up the plug. That looks cool. Let’s sew a few and see how they look.
Yes. Let’s do that. Everything okay? You take this zip like this. We have to put it in the middle. Which middle? Pick one. Don’t be daft. Where is the middle? A manufacturer of marquees told me he had tons of waste, clippings, small strips. Could I do anything with that?
The fabric was too good to be thrown out. So I said: Yes. It had occurred to me to sew backpacks for homeless people from this weatherproof, waterproof fabric. To help them reintegrate into society: So they wouldn’t look like antisocial bums because they lack the means for hygiene, but like travelers.
This is a small bag we sell to our retail customers. The retail price includes 20 euros that go towards a backpack for the homeless. When you buy a bag you enable a homeless person to get a beautiful traveler’s backpack. This is not frontal. Neither is this one. Hello! Have a look!
Come here. To me. This shot is not frontal. It makes the customer want to shift it around. I have always liked baking bread and would love to make bread to sell it. But our house is very remote. Claudia asked me, would I bake for her when she opened her shop.
That felt like a gift to me. I was electrified. I was overjoyed. Later, when we went organic and I began baking organic bread, that was great, too. Ís organic different from non-organic, to you? Very different. A few weeks ago, I heard a rustling noise in my garden. I carefully went to look.
A hedgehog came out from under the bushes. Before going organic I would have weeded there and the ground would have been cleared and there would be no space for a hedgehog. Organic is just great. I buy things to give away at the organic shop. I tell everybody how happy I am about it.
Maybe I can pass the bug on to others the way Claudia passed it on to me. Now they’re ready. We have a big oven that holds 25 loaves, but I knew I couldn’t handle that on my own. But we have our own flour and I thought,
How nice if someone from here could bake. I had heard of Theres Pfister, that she would bake for village events. We need space for the “farmwoman’s bread”. I approached her and asked her if she’d like to bake bread for the shop. And if she’d like to supply eggs, as well.
My condition was that she had to go organic. I have eggs, do you need any? Yes. How many? 90. I’ve stopped doing calculations. I gave up the idea of having to earn a certain amount. I wanted to build something for the village, the people, myself, our farm
And for the farmers in our region. I thought: That in itself is my reward. That’s nice enough. Sure, we have to make a living. So I went to see all the farmers. They told me what they could supply. I asked: How much do you need? Some of them stared at me.
They said: This much? I said: Alright. One of them still says, every time he comes: This much for the tomatoes, is that okay? Me: Sure, if that’s what you ask. He: I could give you a discount. Me: No, if you need this much, it’s okay. You do the work, you supply the tomatoes.
You have to say how much you need for that. That’s clear to me, because I know hom much work it is to produce foods. I am still convinced that food is too cheap. Supermarket chains pay the farmers too little, and I don’t want to be like them.
The farmers shouldn’t be producing just for me. They should be happy and earn something. I’d never have imagined the ladies would cheat. It would never have occurred to me. Anything but that. I might have thought, further down in the supply chain, maybe they’re not supplying enough fabric. Everything here is based on trust.
But when everyone is abiding by the rules, faithfully, everyone outside, the stench can only come from inside. Could you come here for a moment? Please, gather round, everyone! This won’t be a fun conversation. I’m at the end of my tether. Because there are 27 women and men here,
Some of whom have up to 80 missed hours, although they are here. Because they drink coffee and smoke, there is a mass migration to the loo. Because they chat on their phones and work doesn’t get done. When you work considerably less and less, others on the team have to take up the slack.
How are we supposed to pay for that? People on sick leave go work somewhere else. Then they lie to my face: That wasn’t me. It was my twin sister. Hello!! I don’t want to risk my reputation or the team’s credibility because of 27 lazy people! I’ve had it.
You clock in, you clock out. Whether you go to make a phone call, smoke or have a coffee. You have to be the kind of person who does not bear grudges to be able to do something like this. When I think about it, yes, sometimes, the way some of the ladies treat me
Or treat Miri … They wouldn’t get a job anywhere else. Nowhere else. They’re not integrated in a family. Because they’re tough loners. It wouldn’t help, though, to send them back to their lonely flats. You have to deal with them. Some of them are just a real pain.
Fellow entrepreneurs often email or phone me: I have a special case. Couldn’t you employ them? Me: No, why don’t you? Them: They’re a bad fit for us. Hello, people! I’m not the backup for your failed social commitment. I can’t save the world. We’ll have to do that together.
Back then, I was very naive and dewy-eyed, very naive and dewy-eyed, thinking: If I start and prove that it works, everyone will pitch in and help. Rubbish. Some companies may venture to do something, but in homeopathic amounts. Funnily enough, I get big enterprises telling me: Join our portfolio mix. We could incorporate you.
The smaller ones, though, hardly help. We can learn so much from this culture. We would make no progress. We could not survive, if we had to live under such circumstances. They have great skills, if you take into account the heat, nature, natural events, rain, no water, hunger. Dealing with all this
Is their great skill. And these skills: their modesty and their ability to cope with the circumstances they live in, that is something we can learn from them. I’d like to see how the house is coming along. Hosea came and asked me to prepare the place for the house. Where will the house be?
Do you want to add something? We have the oil mill to press sunflower seeds and make oil for cooking. I am sixty years old. 60? And seven. 60 and 7. Stand on one leg. Now move. I do have profit in mind. I want to make a profit to carry on.
I’m thinking, two to three per cent. That would be plenty for me. hat would go to Remei, and from there? Yes, that would go to Remei. 20 per cent go to the foundation as a donation. One part goes to the employees, one part to the shareholders.
One part remains at Remei as a provision for general capital generation over the years. That’s why return on equity doesn’t matter. This is not a listed company where your profit can reach 20 to 40 per cent. It is clearly a vehicle to support wellbeing, which means: the wellbeing of a jointly working community.
That works out if you can do it in an authentic way. Not for the money, but for the people and for the planet. I’m having a heart attack. Excuse me. There I am, looking at food and coffee. I get why you look at the food. You need one, too. Not just me.
May I offer you one? Too much choice for me. If you pinch this one, it’ll look as if nobody had eaten anything. This is so cool. I am flabbergasted. It’s crazy, what you’ve built up! How did you get this idea, at a time when nobody considered it,
To do fair trade and fair production? It was a bit like yourself. You had an idea and you simply realised it. I can only say thank you. If not for your work, my project, my vision would not have grown on fertile soil. It’s the raw material for my vision.
I hope this will go on for a long time. That it will remain, because it gives so much pleasure. Have you ever smelled cotton? I have lain in 200 tons of it. I’ve helped pick it, the whole deal. I admire you. I can only say the same thing to you.
Life is not easy for you. It’s not easy for you either. It certainly isn’t easy for me. But it is no easier for you. The world will provide enough opportunities for us to get involved in for at least five lifetimes. In Africa, in India, in Europe. I’ve already got one.
Disabled employees? You can’t get rid of them. I’d rather pay that levy than employ any. Well, bullshit. Old people? They’re always sick. The manner in which a society deals with its weakest members reveals the condition it is in. We lock away the old, the infirm and the disabled. So we don’t see them.
To me that is not an acceptable solution. Because everyone has the right to be included. All my ladies have an open-ended contract. They need security. The young as well as the old. The old ones want to approach retirement securely, without having to ask: Will my First Lady still need me tomorrow?
Will I have to go to the job centre? How do you think young people can found a family not knowing what foundation to build it on? Manomama has existed for eight years, 100 per cent covered by equity capital. All the money I earned in advertising, I just took it.
Why? The banks wouldn’t give me anything. If you want money from us, we need to see your business plan. Honestly, I am now a managing shareholder, sole proprietor of four companies, all of which are operating profitably. And I can tell you: Business plans are drawing-board crap. That’s a constant. Enjoy it.
It was a pain writing this. Heartfelt congratulations! Thank you. Like fireworks. You need to burn for the things you do. We produce quite a lot of potatoes. This year, it was around 50 tons. Roughly half of these could not be sold to the supermarkets, because there were too many flaws.
We would have put them in storage and fed them to the cattle during the winter. But now, we have a new trainee. She said: It’s a pity about the potatoes. What can we do? This isn’t right. Shall I post this on Facebook? A friend of mine used to sell vegetables
That were deformed; he opened a store to do it. Maybe somebody will buy 100 kilos’ worth. I said: Why not. She said: How much do you want for them? Me: One franc per kilo is fine. That set off a tidal wave. Within two days we sold about five tons.
This is an infested potato. A wireworm bored in here. If you cut the potato open you can see the borehole. You just slice it away, the rest of the potato is fine. Even if you left it, it isn’t poisonous. The worm is no longer there, it’s just a hole.
The risk always remains with the farmer. That’s not fair. When there are enough potatoes, retailers get picky. When there are too few, they are more tolerant. That is unfair. The farmer produced them, there is an offtake agreement. But the farmer is supposed to bear the risk.
It’s great of you to do this. Really good. Thanks. It’s nice that so many people support it. Yes, it’s nice. This is all I’m doing these days. I believe you. In 2005, child labour was a big issue in Europe. One of our criteria is innovation. We took up the issue,
As we ourselves wanted to check where we stood in terms of child labour. When I asked, the answer was: Not us. I said: Okay, let’s go to a village. Let’s see what exactly goes on there. So we came to this village. I asked: Do the children go to school?
No, it’s too far away. I spontaneously suggested: Let’s build a school together. You provide the grounds and help with construction. We pay for the materials. Are you in? Yes, we are in. And so we developed this idea. By now, there are 18 schools. I was working as a buyer in the fashion trade,
All around the globe, for a department store. In many countries, I saw atrocious conditions. I saw factories in China that sent shivers down my spine. Seeing what came out of the drains and flowed straight into the next stream. I saw how people were kept in those factories. Almost like cage farming.
And I also saw the enormous damage industrial agriculture is wreaking. You have planes flying for kilometres over fields of cotton, spraying pesticides and weed killers. All of that will eventually end up on the customers’ skin. That makes you wonder. We must fight against this, even if we’re David fighting Goliath.
I hoped it would go on like that. Never touch a running system. Everything running smoothly, it would be easy. After the first three years I was really exhausted. The years of development had cost me an enormous amount of energy. A truly immense amount. I only realised that later.
Then came the separation from my ex-husband. Personal problems and business problems. The separation from my husband happened almost at the same time as a huge betrayal by a cooperation partner. He had solemnly promised to place his orders with us until all my ladies retired. Overnight, he moved a large quantity to India.
And I had no idea. You’re in the sewing room, thinking: Crap. And then you realise that contracts are just smoke and mirrors. Things couldn’t go on the same way. Someone was not abiding by the rules. Well, they were; this is free trade. Okay, that is the rule, but he broke his pledge.
I’m an old-school tradesman. When I shake someone’s hand, the deal is solid. You’re left with two options: You can do it the usual way. You go down and tell your staff: We’re sorry. Thanks, but we have to close shop. Or you do it another way. Okay. Give me a good bottle of wine.
I need two days to catch my breath. And then we’ll see what we can do. After a few hours I came up with a game plan. We had to secure at least some part. Going out of business was no option. I couldn’t have coped with that either. The whole thing would have failed.
Failure isn’t bad; giving up is. So I worked my arse off to make up the bulk of the orders we lost with other customers’ orders. They really helped us a lot. There isn’t much dark beer. Most people prefer lager. Some people only drink dark beer. Sweet? What does it remind you of?
Malt. Ovaltine. Here’s some of your spelt beer. Much lighter. It’s different. That one’s more intense. Here’s to the new beer! To your health! Cheers. Let’s try it out, not rush into it. The question is… It’s yet another culture. Last summer we decided not to do more but less.
I think what we can do here is wonderful. I’m grateful that we can live this way in this beautiful farmhouse with all the animals. But we need to get a sense of what is possible. It’s tricky when you work together and live together as a couple, to avoid talking business all the time.
We need to take time out for each other and do stuff as a couple. Not always work the garden or the fields. We have to keep reminding ourselves. On the plot where the pigs are now, there is alfalfa. We could leave that. Hello. I’ve been here before. You’ve been selected
For a routine follow-up inspection. I’m from Biotest Agro. We’ll join you. From Biotest Agro? It’s about the organic certification. Last time, it was about the free-range label. But this is a coincidence. I have a mandate from the Canton of Solothurn to do a routine follow-up inspection of animal husbandry and feed. Go ahead.
Are the animals all here? The pigs are on their plot. I’ll find them. I’ll come back for your signature. Where’s the front door? Back there, near the kitchen. – Everything okay? – Sure. This is the kind of weather no pig would want to be outside in. I moved them early this week.
I don’t know where they are. You should race them, they’re practising. See, here. Looks tip-top. I like them. They don’t seem to suffer. No tail biting either. I’ve never had any. They have space, they’re active. That tells me a lot. They were startled, but they’re coming back. I like that.
As long as they have grass, it’s fine. When they have broken up the grass, I’ll feed them hay or maize silage or so. So they have something to munch on. That’s delightful. Four weeks ago, I was on TV, introducing Brichbag, our project for homeless people. The host asked me: Apart from buying backpacks
And thereby supporting homeless people, is there anything else one could do? I said: Yes, I can’t knit. We have plenty of socks but no hats. It’s cold, it’s winter. I need hats. By Monday, we had received 1,500 hats. Four weeks on, we have more than 4,500. We get new parcels every day.
This is the best proof that when someone does something that makes them happy they don’t necessarily want money for it. It is enough for them to find meaning in it. This isn’t just a claim, I can write it down: It is a fact. See the hats. Critics, goodbye. Farewell, “social romanticism”.
Fact, not fake news. A fancy backpack isn’t enough. So I started canvassing manufacturers: You make great mouthwash, I would love to have it in my bag. You make good food, toiletries. After a bit of persuasion they mostly said yes. So I can distribute what we have. The socks are something special.
My sock knitter retired a year ago. When he heard about my plan for Brichbag he said: My retirement can wait. I’ll reinstall three machines. He set them up in his old factory hall and has been knitting thick socks ever since. There is no lack of socks at all. People join up to help
If they can contribute. Sometimes a spark is enough to start a fire. We’re almost there. They’re heavy. You can say that again. Let’s see who’s here. We’re bringing the backpacks. Let’s pull up a chair. Great. Wonderful. Fresh supply. There are umbrellas and winter hats inside. Are you here a lot?
Take whatever you need. Well, then take it. Look. There’s a lot of space. For starters. A picture for Manomama Blog. From the front or the back? You two are great. Stand over there. I’d like to take your picture like that. Super. Look how pretty. I don’t like myself in photos. Well, you’re silly.
We Europeans have certain skills. We’re good at organising things, for five, ten years, budgets, etc. We can make plans for our lives. They turn out differently, but we can do that. We can plan. Indians don’t plan. They know things can change. They live things differently, to begin with.
This very synergy makes things happen. We have too much planning, they have too much fatalism. At this juncture, something good happens, and we can learn from each other. Africans are different in another way. They are more in the rhythm of things. I don’t know anyone in Africa who’s suffered burnout.
They’re better at breathing in, at living the day. But they can’t plan as well. We complement each other, coming from different cultures with different skills. That’s when we become human. Otherwise we’re just businessmen. When we’re thinking in economic terms we measure everything by its success, and success means profit. Profit means money.
If you found an enterprise nowadays, growth must be your goal. You are taught that. I was taught that. In the last two years, I have learnt: That’s wrong. Quantitative growth doesn’t matter. But I want growth in terms of quality. I’d like to take better, more satisfying paths leading to making garments
And more diverse things. In the long run, this is the only idea that is economically viable. The idea of a post-growth economy. That enterprises don’t always need to grow in terms of money and quantity. That’s sick. 203 is here. In terms of weaving technique we draw on ancient knowledge
That you only find in textile museums nowadays. When it comes to the combination of materials, I draw on even earlier knowledge. This was the cornerstone of the Fugger family’s fame, 500 years ago, which turned Augsburg into the global capital of textiles and trade: fustian. With their vulgar tea towel,
They triumphed all over the world and at royal courts. They were the first to weave linen and cotton into one fabric combining their excellent properties. My hope is that, in a few weeks’ time, when the flax is ready to be harvested and linen will be made from it,
That this will be a material from which, in a few months’ time, we can make fustian. We have to go back to sourcing and producing regionally wherever possible to achieve a real global economy. Globally, we must think and act much more regionally. In this sense, fustian may not be
Such a bad idea after all, but a rather good one for the future. This shop will never make us rich. Nor will farming. We knew that when we chose this path. Matthias is an engineer, I’m a teacher. Together we would have a fantastic salary. But that wasn’t what we were about.
I’ve learned that this is a hard job. But there are so many things in our lives that I value and wouldn’t want to miss. It isn’t just work from dawn to dusk, it’s fulfilling. In that respect, we are rich. Just not in terms of money. In five years’ time I may say
That we have earned too little. After one year, it’s too soon to say whether it’ll be profitable. And I mustn’t count my hours. If I worked it out, my hourly wage would be frustrating. One shouldn’t factor that in. As a businesswoman, I ought to say that I must grow and earn more.
But if it stays like this, I’ll be happy. It doesn’t have to grow any bigger. This has become a new meeting place for people. On Saturday mornings, I often hear: Long time no see. How are you? Children meet here and play. Older people who live alone will say: I can come here
Knowing I’ll see familiar faces. I can feel how people are growing closer again. We have rules that respect the individuality and the personality of each employee, which is inviolate. They have a right to make a stand. They have a right to make demands. The right to decent conditions.
But no right to do something else. In joining our company they have to work according to our rules. At Remei, they have the right to have a say. But no right to disregard human dignity. No right to abolish human rights. No right to relinquish organic cotton.
No right not to abide by fair pricing. No, those are our basic terms of business. I’ve never seen flax before. Who grows flax in a major way nowadays? Hardly anyone. Let alone organic flax.
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