Bob Woodson’s social enterprise

When I began working on federal welfare policy in the early 2000s, my boss told me to go see Bob Woodson and his network of projects in low-income neighborhoods. My think tank job revolved around producing white papers for policymakers in Washington, D.C. Bob didn’t have much use for white papers and thought Washington was woefully out of touch with real, on-the-ground change. But he took me in tow to Baltimore, Philadelphia, Milwaukee, and Denver, a few of the places his Center for Neighborhood Enterprise (now the Woodson Center) was active. Bob became a friend and mentor who shaped my outlook with his vision for social enterprise that expands community horizons by making the most of what we’ve been given.

Robert L. Woodson, Sr., died May 19 at the age of 89. Following civil rights activism in the 1960s and early ’70s, Bob spent much of his life identifying social entrepreneurs who were successfully helping others escape addiction, gangs, prison, and homelessness. These were not well-heeled or multi-credentialed experts. Bob was skeptical of strategies parachuted into low-income communities by outsiders, and he often reminded us that “to be certified is not necessarily to be qualified.” He was convinced that effective leaders are to be found in the “same cultural zip code” where the needs are. These leaders had credibility because of their commitment to their communities and their capacity to recognize the latent potential there.

Bob found that effective agents of neighborhood change often had an “ex-” in their resume: ex-addict, ex-convict, ex-gang member. God had freed these leaders from paths that others judged to be dead ends. Against the odds, they transcended tough situations, but not to escape them. Instead, they returned as witnesses to the possibility of transformation. Bob saw that their cleverness, once directed toward criminality, had been renewed as entrepreneurial ingenuity that could revitalize communities.

Bob urged us to be students of these successes in overcoming poverty, addiction, prison recidivism, and gang violence. He was annoyed by researchers and policymakers who focused only on failure. That emphasis perpetuated low expectations that undermined dignity. Programs that fixated on material deficits spread a culture of dependency. He thought the problems were more than material, and they called for relational remedies.

Bob considered agency critical for developing character, and character critical for overcoming adverse conditions. He emphasized gratitude rather than grievance. He was passionate about teaching this country’s founding principles so that all Americans would know their inheritance and the possibilities it held for them.

Not only the poor needed to be reminded of these realities, according to Bob. He challenged the complacency that says middle- and upper-class young people are alright because they are materially comfortable. The economically well-to-do can have moral and spiritual emptiness, he noted, pointing to reports of depression, drug use, and suicide among this group. Flourishing requires more than material resources, he reminded us.

Bob thought policymakers needed to learn that lesson, too, when it came to antipoverty efforts. He wanted Washington policymakers to see neighborhood successes firsthand so they would broaden their vision of what was possible in the transformation of lives and communities. Over the decades, many officeholders did just that. Officials like Housing and Urban Development Secretary Jack Kemp, House Speakers Newt Gingrich and Paul Ryan, and Sen. Tim Scott worked with Bob and his network of leaders, reflecting their insights in policies from enterprise zones to welfare reform. Bob inspired policy reformers not only in Washington, D.C., but across the United States and around the world, from London, England, to Canberra, Australia.

Over the years, Bob received many awards, including the Presidential Citizens Medal, the MacArthur Foundation’s “Genius” Award, the Bradley Prize, and the 2018 William Wilberforce Award from the Colson Center. His legacy, however, isn’t in these credentials, but in the lives changed because he spent half a century studying success on the streets and testifying to it everywhere he went. In 2020 he wrote Lessons from the Least of These to pass on this lifetime of wisdom.

Bob Woodson’s enterprising spirit questioned prevailing approaches to poverty and social challenges. He championed the successes of those who had overcome adversity to become social entrepreneurs in their communities because he believed in the power of redemption, restoration, and multiplication. Bob expanded the horizons of those in low-income communities as well as those in the policy community, increasing our gratitude for the gifts we’ve been given, including him.