A community revolution

Nia Peeples nailed it when she said, “Life is a moving, breathing thing. We must be willing to constantly evolve. Perfection is in fact, constant transformation.” This wisdom is profound for communities watching their downtowns deteriorate or get steamrolled by corporate chains while local entrepreneurs struggle to find their footing. The harsh reality? According to the Institute for Local Self-Reliance, communities lose roughly 45 cents of every dollar spent at chain stores, compared to just 15 cents lost when shopping locally. That’s not just math—it’s a blueprint for economic hemorrhaging that’s been bleeding Main Streets dry for decades.

Economic gardening isn’t your grandmother’s community development strategy. Unlike traditional economic development that chases big-box retailers with massive tax incentives, this approach focuses on nurturing homegrown businesses using local resources, talent, and capital.

The concept, pioneered in Littleton, Colorado, has produced remarkable results. While most communities throw millions at corporate relocations, Littleton’s economic gardening program helped create over 15,000 jobs in existing small businesses over two decades—at a fraction of the cost of traditional recruitment efforts.

The beauty lies in the multiplier effect. When you support a local restaurant, that owner buys from the local farmer, who banks with the
community credit union, who loans to the local contractor. It’s economic ecosystems 101, yet somehow, we’ve been convinced that a national chain offering minimum-wage jobs is “economic development.” Consider the stark contrast: A community might spend $500,000 in tax incentives to lure a chain restaurant that employs 25 people at $12 per hour. That same investment could fund micro-loans for five local food entrepreneurs, each creating 8-10 jobs while keeping profits circulating locally. The math isn’t even close.

Food halls represent something profound—they’re democracy in action, served with a side of economic empowerment. These aren’t just trendy eating spots; they’re incubators for culinary entrepreneurs who might never afford traditional restaurant build-outs.

Numbers don’t lie. Opening a traditional restaurant requires $175,000-$750,000 in startup capital. A food hall vendor space? Often as little as $15,000-$40,000. That’s the difference between dreams deferred and businesses born.

During the pandemic, while chain restaurants had corporate headquarters to weather the storm, local eateries faced extinction. Food halls provided a lifeline—lower overhead, shared resources, and built-in foot traffic. Many became community rallying points, proving that collective action beats corporate muscle when neighbors support neighbors. The ripple effects extend beyond economics.
Food halls provide choices that corporate chains never could. They become gathering spaces where communities meet, rather than sterile environments designed for efficient customer processing.

Tax Increment Financing (TIF) districts have traditionally been sledgehammers—massive tools for massive projects. Micro-TIFs are scalpels, precisely targeting individual buildings or small areas for strategic intervention.

Here’s where it gets interesting: Traditional TIF districts often span hundreds of acres and require decades to show results. Micro-TIFs can transform a single block in 2-3 years. They’re particularly powerful for historic preservation and adaptive reuse projects that big developers ignore but that define community character.

The flexibility is game-changing. A micro-TIF might cover just the corner building that’s been vacant for years, providing exactly the financial mechanism needed to convert upper floors to affordable housing while attracting a local business to the ground floor. It’s urban acupuncture—small interventions with disproportionate healing power.

The statistics are sobering. Since 2005, the U.S. has lost over 65,000 independent retailers while gaining chains. Every closure represents not just lost jobs, but lost community identity, lost local ownership, and lost economic resilience.

But here’s the hopeful twist: Communities that embrace economic gardening, food halls, and micro-TIFs are writing different stories. They’re proving that David doesn’t just survive against Goliath—he thrives.

The choice couldn’t be clearer. Communities can continue subsidizing corporate profits that flow to distant shareholders, or they can invest in neighbors who coach little league, serve on school boards, and show up when times get tough.

Time is indeed short, but the tools are proven. The question isn’t whether these strategies work—it’s whether communities will have the courage to use them before the last local business turns off its lights for good.

John A. Newby is the author of the “Building Main Street, Not Wall Street” column dedicated to helping local communities, government and business combine synergies allowing them to thrive in a world where truly-local is being lost to Amazon and Wall Street chains. His email is john@truly-local.org